The Plague
by Mirrordance
Summary: Concluded! The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora’s box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…
1. Trouble in the Shire

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

Part 1: Trouble in the Shire

___

The Shire

___

      _Why must the peace be so constantly shattered?_

      Frodo looked upon his friends miserably.  Brought together once again were they, in Bilbo Baggins's hut, gathered around a table by the fire.  They were miraculously quiet for a group of young hobbits, weighing their sins, counting their few options.

      "Why shouldn't I have opened it?" Pippin exclaimed in defense of himself, as if he was simply resuming an argument inside his mind, "I found it.  It was a box.  Why not?"

      "Why not?" Merry snapped, his eyes bulging and his face contorting.  Pippin rubbed at his forearms nervously as he awaited the wrath of his friend, "It must have been buried for some reason, Pippin.  You should have been more cautious.  You ought to know by now that the world is rife with evils.  Curse your curiosity!"

      "I'd have opened it," Samwise admitted, in Pippin's defense, "He is right.  If it were a right pretty box…"

      "Then curse your curiosity as well," said Merry, "Gandalf will have our heads in a platter."

      "Perhaps nothing will come of it," Frodo said uncertainly, though he surely didn't believe it.  

      From what little he had was able to grasp of Pippin's frantic blabbering a few minutes ago, the incident sounded grave.  The hobbit had heard of making a time capsule from a traveler who had passed into town some weeks ago, and decided to make one of his own.  His mind set on burying it until his children's children's children's children (i.e. very deep) would be the only one to find it, he instead found a compact, intricate, bejeweled golden box.  Excitedly, he opened it, and said that a skinny black, slithering, lizard-like _thing_ had flown away, leaving a foul smell and soaring to the skies.  Horrified and panicked, Pippin shut the lid of the box and ran with it to the place where the river current was quick and destructive, eager to rid himself of the box, its demons, and most likely, all traces of his crime.

      "Master Frodo is right," agreed Sam, perpetually optimistic, "We've not had trouble yet, and this was quite some minutes ago, wouldn't you say?"

      "I think maybe the river destroyed the box," said Pippin eagerly, nodding, "and if the box were destroyed, so would all its demons."

      Merry frowned.  "To be able to rid the self of grave danger with such ease is almost always never the case."

      "Maybe this once, Merry," Frodo said quietly.

      "With all my heart, I hope so," Merry said honestly, "But I could not help but doubt."

      Frodo bit his upper lip, made a decision.  "Would it appease you if we wrote a letter to Strider? It would be days until he could receive it, but he may know more of this than we."  
      Merry looked slightly embarrassed.  "You needn't do anything to satisfy me, Frodo.  I merely find it prudent to be on the side of caution."

      "A letter, yes!" exclaimed Samwise, "I think it would be best, Master Frodo."

      Pippin bit his lip.  "None of them are going to be very happy with me, are they?"

      "Perhaps nothing will come of it," Frodo said again, wishing with all of his heart.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PREVIEW OF PART 2, "The Ravage of Rohan."

      Stepping out of their tour of Fangorn, Legolas and Gimli find Rohan destroyed by the plague Pippin had unwittingly released…

A SCENE FROM PART 2:

      "Is anyone home?" Gimli called out, his stubby fingers reaching for the door, Legolas readying his bow for any surprises that may come from within.

      The knob slid smoothly, unlocked as it was.  The two companions left their nervously whinnying horse outside, and stepped into the dark home.

      Legolas's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he caught his breath at the horrid sight, his arm tensing as he prepared to shoot his arrow, although what violence may have occurred in this home had been over long before he and Gimli had walked into its doors.

      Gimli growled beside him, "This is like walking into a grave."

      Bodies of the inhabitants of the house lay on the ground, not stirring, their faces turned away from Legolas and Gimli.  They had no obvious wounds, although they were still and oblivious, seemingly dead…


	2. A Ravaged Rohan

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

PART 2: A Ravaged Rohan

___

Rohan

___

      "What did you think, Gimli?" Legolas asked, his eyes shining as he and his friend, the compact dwarf, rode out of the territory of Fangorn and into the borders of Rohan.  The road was rugged and untamed, for the old forest was not a popular place to pass through, surrounded by its legends and swamped by its heavy, potent presence.

      "I was more at home in the Glittering Caves," came the grumbled reply, "But I cannot begrudge you your affinity for the forest."

      Legolas grinned, the dwarf not seeing, since the elf sat upon their steed, Arod, in front of him.  It was concession enough for Legolas.  The two friends had ventured out to see the beauty that the land held, in its great extremes.  Their travels have taken them to strange, otherworldly, distant places indeed, Fangorn being just the last of several, and one among many journeys and explorations sure to come.

      They rode in comfortable silence, each now used to the presence of the other.  It was an uncanny friendship indeed.  Not merely because it was between an elf and a dwarf, but because it was a bond whose strength is second to none in all the lands.

      "I can see our road clearly," Legolas said, breaking the silence, his voice colored by his smile, "After we pay our respects to King Eomer, we can see Aragorn.  Rohan lies next to Gondor.  He would welcome us happily."  
      "Aye," agreed Gimli, "One hopes he finds the time.  Between being a King and reconstructing the world, and spending time with your fair Evenstar, perhaps he may be too busy for old friends like us, a pair of weathered travelers."

      Legolas laughed, the sound musical and disarming, "You may be weathered, my friend.  I most certainly am not.  Besides, Aragorn always finds time, from somewhere."

      "He raises his new scepter and extends the day, I say!" agreed Gimli, his laughter hearty.

      "Such blasphemies you speak," Legolas commented, mock-gravely.  Gimli had said something to that, and the dwarf had found himself deeply amusing, although his elf companion had not noticed it.  Legolas's ears were turned elsewhere, his forehead marred by creases as he frowned.

      Gimli noticed Legolas's preoccupation.  Accustomed by now to his companion's actions, Gimli paused and held his breath, waiting for the elf to speak, giving him the time to listen to his surroundings.

      "Gimli, do you hear anything?" Legolas asked.

      "Going deaf, elf?' Gimli said, in an effort to make light of the conversation, "If there is one thing I would concede to your blasted race, its those damn ears.  You know yours are much better than mine."

      "Yet I hear nothing," Legolas said softly, "This is Rohan.  There are supposed to be people about.  We should have run across one, or two by now, or at least, dimly heard their bustle from the nearing towns.  And yet there is nothing."

      Gimli frowned.  "You are right.  There is something strange in the air indeed."

      "It is a potent emptiness," Legolas said, eyes stricken, "It's as if I am suddenly deaf."

      "Maybe the distant settlements have been moved," Gimli reasoned, "nearer to Edoras, perhaps.  A great restructuring.  Times may be more certain than they were in the time to Sauron, but there is still fear, and anxiety."

      "Perhaps," Legolas agreed, though his worry would not leave him, "Let us ride faster to the Hall."

      Legolas murmured to Arod in Elvish.  The dwarf, after spending so much time with the Prince of Mirkwood, now understood one in every few words.  The rest he filled in.

      ~As swift as the wind, Arod,~ Legolas said to his horse.  Gimli comprehended it quickly enough to hold fast to Legolas's waist just as the horse suddenly quickened its pace.

* * *

      Their worry escalated as they reached Edoras, moving through the town surrounding the Golden Hall.  It was deathly still, as if all its inhabitants had simply vanished.

      Legolas slowed the horse's pace, as they moved across the settlement cautiously.  

      "Hello!" Gimli called out, his gruff voice carried by the wind, met without response.  He fingered the handle of his axe nervously, "This is very strange indeed," he muttered to Legolas, "I've not seen the likes of this."

      "Nor have I," Legolas replied, "We've not even run across Rohan's Riders, who usually guard its borders with such fervor.  We've not run across _anyone_."

      "Perhaps we should leave," suggested Gimli, "Whatever it is that has overpowered Rohan's towns and its mighty Rohirrim must be made known to other cities.  And I may be strong of will and spirit, but I am not so great a fool to ignore the fact that we are not an army, you and I." 

      "There is more to know here," Legolas murmured, pulling Arod to a stop.  He dismounted warily, and held his horse for Gimli to do the same.

      ~Follow closely,~ Legolas said to his horse, as he and Gimli turned towards a seemingly empty hut.

      "Is anyone home?" Gimli called out, his stubby fingers reaching for the door, Legolas readying his bow for any surprises that may come from within.

      The knob slid smoothly, unlocked as it was.  The two companions left their nervously whinnying horse outside, and stepped into the dark home.

      Legolas's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he caught his breath at the horrid sight, his arm tensing as he prepared to shoot his arrow, although what violence may have occurred in this home had been over long before he and Gimli had walked into its doors.

      Gimli growled beside him, "This is like walking into a grave."

      Bodies of the inhabitants of the house lay on the ground, not stirring, their faces turned away from Legolas and Gimli.  They had no obvious wounds, although they were still and oblivious, seemingly dead.

      Legolas and Gimli made sure the house was otherwise empty, before squatting on the floor to examine the bodies.

      There were three children, and three older folk.  They had no wounds of any kind, though it was glaringly certain that they were dead.  It wasn't so much their ashen skin, or the fact that they smelled of decay, that made this a certainty.  It was their eyes, lazily open, looking at nothing, seeing nothing.

      "What is this devilry," murmured Legolas, searching the bodies for any sign of physical harm that may have ended their lives, and finding strange, marks of twin-punctures on the forearms of each of the bodies.  They were deep and sweltering, as if they could not heal, and surrounded by a dark bruise.  He showed it to Gimli, "Have you seen this bite before?"

      Gimli studied it closely, "Not in all my years have I seen such a mark on a body."

      "Nor have I," Legolas said thoughtfully, dusting his hands as he sighed, "I fear we may have walked into a plague, my friend."

      Gimli scowled, wiping his own hands against his pants, "Let us seek Eomer.  I fear we may be too late to save the life of the King from whatever it is that has plagued his land."

      "We must move quickly," Legolas nodded, "I fear for neighboring lands as well, seeing that Rohan has been so ravaged."

      Gimli glanced at his companion, knowing that he must have been referring to Gondor, and their friends there.  

* * *

      They found Eomer sitting upon his throne, his eyes listless and unseeing, much like the eyes of the others that they have passed on their way to the Golden Hall.

      "Eomer!" Legolas exclaimed, running towards the King, his emotions stirring even after their travel through town had already guaranteed that he should not have hoped for any better.

      "What has happened here?" Gimli asked-- for the nth time-- his mind racing, his heart pained at the horror.

      "The King of Rohan is fallen," Legolas said sadly, his hand reaching towards the King's face, to close those staring eyes—

      --that suddenly blinked.

      Legolas stepped back, looking at Eomer with doubt, wondering if he had seen what he thought he had seen.

      "Gimli," Legolas whispered, and when the dwarf did not respond, looking around the hall with such anguish on his face, Legolas called upon him more insistently, "Gimli!"

      "Do not raise your voice, lad," Gimli growled at him, "Respect the dead."

      "I think he lives," Legolas said in one breath, reaching his hand towards Eomer's face again, making him blink.  Gimli gawked at the King as Legolas earlier had, but this time the elf did not hesitate.  He took the King in his arms and laid him on the ground, pressing his ear close to the King's chest.

      "He lives," Legolas said excitedly, "though barely.  We must get him food, and drink.  We must get him to his chambers, ensure that he recovers from this."

      "We must also closely check the homes around town," Gimli said, wincing as he counted just how many homes that was, "we must ensure that anyone who still lives may be tended to as well."

      "I will see to the King," Legolas agreed, "and follow you shortly.  Watch your back, my friend.  We still do not know what it is that has caused this."

* * *

      After Legolas settled Eomer upon his chambers, he made a survey of the rest of the hall.  Though a lot of the soldiers, servants, courtiers and advisers were dead, a lot also lived in a similar state as Eomer, barely breathing, and unresponsive.

      Legolas carried all that he had found living into the receiving hall, where they could all be in one place, easier for him and Gimli to look after.  Then he snatched blankets and covers and pillows from the rooms above to use as makeshift beds, making the ill as comfortable as possible.  All the dead he had left where he found them, not yet having the heart, nor the time, to put them in one place for a proper burning, or listing.

      After settling the living, he stepped out of the hall to find Gimli, so that they may both bring the living that they find from around town into the receiving hall as well.     

      "Gimli!" he called, jogging towards the house that Arod stood in front of.  The horse had taken a liking to the dwarf as well, and guarded him as steadfastly as he looked after Legolas.

      "Many yet live," Gimli updated his friend.  He looked disturbed.  "Have you looked upon these lands, Legolas? The Earth is untended.  The harvest ignored.  It's as if their lives just stood still."

      "It is perplexing," Legolas winced, "It seems as if they've not eaten, or drank, or… or _moved_ in days," he paused in thought, "Gimli, how badly can you cook?"

      "You've had a taste," replied Gimli, "What say you?"

      "I've tasted better," Legolas admitted.

      "I've not seen you wielding a pan," retorted the dwarf.

      "Elves usually live by the mercies of the forest," Legolas said in defense, "We needn't cook.  We accept what is readily offered—"

      Gimli waved the excuses away, "You want me to cook."

      "The ill need to eat," Legolas said, "And this skill I would _happily_ concede to the dwarves."

      Gimli looked at him miserably.  "What strange journeys I have with you," he hesitated, "_mellon_."

      Despite the situation, and the slightly off-pronunciation, Legolas could not help but grin.

      "I'll make sure all who live are taken to the hall," he said, "You make sure we all do not go hungry."

* * *

      "All that is left of Rohan," Legolas said softly, looking over the hall at the people he and Gimli had gathered there.  There were several hundred, perhaps, seemingly too much for two men to look after, but still too little for a kingdom.  

      Night had come, and the day had been too long.  Settling the sick in the hall, force-feeding them.  Now at last he and Gimli could sit still and take stock of their situation, and it was _deathly still_.  Only he and Gimli moved, or spoke.

      "What now, Master Elf?" Gimli asked beside him, similar thoughts coursing through his mind.

      "You and I alone could not keep this up," Legolas said, "We must seek aid."

      Gimli frowned.  He knew what that meant.  Legolas, the better, faster rider of the both of them, would head towards the nearby Gondor.  He, on the other hand, would be left to take care of Rohan's ailing people.  He did not know which duty he would prefer, if there had been a choice.  Rohan was still suffering from an unknown danger that a solitary man could not possibly protect on his own, whereas journeys were still dangerous, and whatever had hurt Rohan may still be lingering about.  Both options offered unspeakable danger.

      "Do not leave tonight," Gimli said gruffly, "Wait for first light.  It is dangerous enough to travel alone, even without the darkness."

      Legolas's brows furrowed.  The matter was urgent, and the Prince of Mirkwood despised waiting.  But he would help no one if he walked into danger now.

      "It makes sense to me, Master Dwarf," he said with a hesitant smile, "And I've tasted your cooking.  It has improved somewhat."

TO BE CONTINUED…

PREVIEW of PART 3, "Gondor":

      News reaches Gondor and King Elessar devices a plan of action.

A SCENE FROM PART 3:

      "The short of an old myth says that the gods, angered by men, decided to place a curse upon them," Arwen said, "So they gave a woman named Pandora a beautiful jeweled box, which she was never ever to open.  However, another god decided to give her curiosity.  She struggles with herself and eventually fails, opening the jeweled box, unwittingly releasing the plagues inside it upon the Earth: diseases, old age, death, famine, jealousy, pain, and similar ills.  They all came in the form of black, skinny, slithering lizards with wings, who bit men and influenced them.

      "Pandora watched with horror as she released the evils," Arwen continued, looking at her husband with wide eyes, "but in the last moment, she finally thought to shut the lid of the box.  One of these lizards remained inside, and it was only by luck that Pandora managed to imprison the most evil one."

      "What is the most evil lizard?" Aragorn asked.

      "Hopelessness," Arwen said gravely…


	3. Gondor

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

PART 3: "Gondor"

___

Gondor

___

      Aragorn frowned over the piece of paper he held in his hands.  Arwen watched her husband's face, waiting for him to say something about what is apparently new trouble.

      "A letter from Frodo, dated past a week ago," Aragorn said, glancing up from the sheet of paper, "Have you or your kind ever encountered a strange," he quoted from the letter, "skinny black, slithering, lizard-like _thing_ that flies, with a distinctly foul smell?"

      The Queen's brows furrowed, "It sounds vaguely familiar to me.  But no such creature comes to mind in my immediate recollection.  What of it?"

      "Master Took found a bejeweled box hidden deep in the ground," Aragorn replied, "he opened it and out came this creature that I've never heard of.  The hobbits are worried about what this might mean."

      "I shall look upon the ancient archives," Arwen offered, "Perhaps it is a trivial concern."

      "Perhaps," agreed Aragorn, "but I trust Frodo's instincts.  He would not consult with me if he did not feel the issue was pressing."

      "We shall see," Arwen promised, pressing a kiss upon her husband's cheek, as she glided out of his throne room.  

      "Sire," one of Aragorn's men, Damion entered the room and hurriedly bowed to the queen as she passed, "The Prince of Mirkwood is here to see you."

      Aragorn's eyes lit, _Some joy!,_ he thought happily, rising from his throne and eager to meet the elf at the door.  Legolas was not merely a friend to distract him from his troubles, he was also a legendary warrior whose counsel was invaluable.

      Legolas stepped into the room following Damion, his pace swift.  Aragorn stopped dead in his tracks, watching the elf's taut face.

      "Legolas?" he asked tentatively.  The elf's eyes were bloodshot, his clothes dusted by travel.  The elf even slightly disheveled was a sight he was unused to.

      "I bear ill news from Rohan," Legolas said at once, "Gimli and I had emerged from Fangorn to find Edoras ravaged by a plague."

      "A plague?" Aragorn asked, his eyes widening, "Of what sort? Where is Gimli? Are you well? What of Eomer?"

      "We do not know what sort," Legolas replied, "I left Gimli to look after the ill, for no one in all of Rohan is well that I have seen.  A lot of them are dead, though the King lives.  We have gathered several hundred people, the only ones alive, in the Golden Hall so that we may tend them.  But the two of us could hardly do it on our own.  I have come to seek the aid of Gondor."

      "And of course you shall get it," Aragorn said, "What is this… sickness like?"

      "They do not move," Legolas said softly, "they do not speak.  They stare listlessly away, as if they were already dead.  All of them bear a strange mark on their forearms that I've not ever seen.  A deep pair of punctures that blister, crowning a swelled bruise."

      "Spiders?" asked Aragorn.

      "I think I would know how such bites would look," pointed out Legolas, "I am of Mirkwood, and we have the worst kinds."

      "I'm sorry if I seemed to doubt your knowledge, but we have to be certain," said Aragorn, "these are strange indeed…" he murmured, "I received a letter from the Shire today, from Frodo.  He said Master Took found a bejeweled box buried deep in the ground.  He opened it, and a strange creature flew away.  From what they described, I've not seen this creature before.  Do you think these events are connected?"

      "I would not rule it out," Legolas said, grimacing, "The bite we've never seen may belong to a creature we've never encountered, after all."

      Aragorn accepted this and nodded, "I feel the same way.  Sit upon my table, Legolas.  I know you want to move quickly, so we will make arrangements as you dine and rest.  I assure you, forces will be mobilized before the sun sets."

* * *

      Aragorn planned quickly.  He decided to leave the ruling of Gondor to the capable hands of Arwen and its protection to a sizeable part of his army, headed by his trusted captain Damion.  A small group of soldiers and healers he had sent with Faramir to Rohan.  From this duty the Lady Eowyn would not be removed; she would see to her brother and her people, and be with her husband as well.  Towards the Shire Aragorn would lead another small group.  This is the party that Legolas decided to join, reasoning that Gimli would already be in excellent company with Faramir and Eowyn, whereas Aragorn had no one but his subordinates, skilled though they were.

      As they were preparing to leave, Arwen quickly walks into the arms room, bearing two thick, old books.  She was enticingly beautiful, even with her cheeks and opulent clothes somewhat dusted from her quest for information in the deeper areas of the libraries in Gondor.  Aragorn immediately offered to take the heavy books from his wife, but she shook her head quickly at him and laid the books upon a nearby table.

      "I think I know this jeweled box Frodo spoke of," she said distractedly, flipping the books towards a particular page.

      "What books are these?" Legolas asked, watching her graceful hands move through the thick paper.  

      "One is of old myths," Arwen replied, "The other is a catalog from a jeweler.  I found these in town."  She flipped the page to a photograph of an intricately decorated, heavily jeweled box.  Both books had the same box drawn on them, with matching detailing.

      "How do you know that this is the one?" Aragorn asked, looking at the pictures.

      "The short of an old myth says that the gods, angered by men, decided to place a curse upon them," Arwen said, "So they gave a woman named Pandora a beautiful jeweled box, which she was never ever to open.  However, another god decided to give her curiosity.  She struggles with herself and eventually fails, opening the jeweled box, unwittingly releasing the plagues inside it upon the Earth: diseases, old age, death, famine, jealousy, pain, and similar ills.  They all came in the form of black, skinny, slithering lizards with wings, who bit men and influenced them.

      "Pandora watched with horror as she released the evils," Arwen continued, looking at her husband with wide eyes, "but in the last moment, she finally thought to shut the lid of the box.  One of these lizards remained inside, and it was only by luck that Pandora managed to imprison the most evil one."

      "What is the most evil lizard?" Aragorn asked.

      "Hopelessness," Arwen said gravely.

      They all knew what this meant.  Against any adversity, men often stood proud and fought.  But without hope… they could not live.

      "For ages this was merely regarded as a folk tale," Arwen said, "Pandora is said to have buried the box deeply, so no one may ever find it.  Perhaps Master Took had found this box, and this legend is real after all."

      "What does the jeweler's catalog have to do with the legend?" Legolas asked.

      "It is said that a jeweler's child had been so captivated by the story that her father made her an exact replica," Arwen said, "the exact stones, the pattern, the density of the gold spoken of in legend, except, certainly, without the plagues inside.  This box was given to the dwarf child on her birthday.  She grew to become a woman, died in child birth, rearing a son, who inherited the treasure box, the only memory of his mother.  This box could not have been the one that Pippin found because there was nothing inside it.  And because… this box was never buried, as Pandora's was.  It lies in the deeps of Moria, where the dwarf woman's son joined an army of dwarves to regain the settlement.  They were all slaughtered mercilessly."

      Aragorn's jaw set.  Master Took, with his penchant for finding trouble, could have come upon _any_ box, _any_ treasure.  And he finds this one! What strange fate!

      "The bite of this lizard brings hopelessness," murmured Legolas thoughtfully, piecing the images of Rohan in his mind, "In Rohan… its as if their lives just stood still.  As if they just decided to cease living."

      "This must be what we are up against," Aragorn decided, "This beast must be dealt with properly.  We must move quickly, before anyone else is harmed."

      Aragorn took his wife's hand, squeezed it tightly as his proud eyes rested on her face for a moment, before he turned away to prepare for his journey.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PREVIEW OF PART 4, "Return to the Shire":

      Aragorn, Legolas and the soldiers of Gondor arrive in the Shire to find that the Hobbits got themselves into deep water, and Pippin is afflicted with the plague that has destroyed Rohan.  

A SCENE FROM PART 4:

      The water was stunningly cold, the river powerful.  Too powerful, for a pair of hobbits who were weak swimmers, even in placid waters.

      They struggled to swim, struggled to keep their heads above the water, struggled to head for shore… all to no avail.  The freezing river had its clutches at them, and it was not going to let them go.

      _This is it_, Sam thought wildly, _Who'd__ have thought we would die ahead of Pippin after all_…


	4. Return to the Shire

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

PART 4: "Return to the Shire"

___

The Shire

___

      "Master Frodo…" Samwise muttered nervously, watching his friend bravely venture into the choppy waters of the river.  It was deep in these parts, and busy.  The current was harsh, the surface broken by waves sloshing against large and small jagged rocks.  It was always cold as ice, though it never froze over because of the current.  It was death to fall into its lethal arms, suicide to try swimming in it.

      _Suicide!_

      "I must say again this is not a very good idea," Sam called, though Frodo barely shot him a glance, as the hobbit stepped into the waters.

      Sam sighed, looked at Merry, who was anxiously watching Frodo as well.  To ensure that their friend would not be taken by the river, the two other hobbits stayed on the banks, anchoring Frodo with a rope about their waists.

      "I was never a strong swimmer," Sam reflected nervously, "Neither was Master Frodo."

      "That's what the rope is for," Merry said edgily, "Let us hope it holds, Sam."

      "It's a good rope," Sam said.

      "It's a strong river," commented Merry, sighing.

      "Master Frodo's stronger," Sam commented, though his hand tightened on the rope.

      He and Merry watched anxiously as Frodo dove into the water, his head vanishing under its surface.  A minute later he raised his head to take a breath, then dived again.

      The rope that held Frodo to the two hobbits was stretched taught, the river dragging Frodo along its harsh flow, and surely would have taken him to his death if his two friends did not struggle to keep their feet firmly planted upon the ground.

      Frodo resurfaced, gasping, "I can't find it!"  
      Sam stared at his friend worriedly, "Come back to the banks now, Frodo.  You are cold already."

      "Just a few times more," Frodo said, his voice shaking just a little, diving into the waters again.

      The strong current was pulling Frodo further and further away from them, stretching the rope, pulling the two hobbits closer to the water.

      "Frodo!" Merry yelled, "We could not hold on for much longer.  Come back now."

      As they were pulled closer and closer to the water's edge, the ground became less solid, muddy, _slippery_.

      With a yelp, the two hobbits slid on the mud, and the rope that connected them to their friend in the water ultimately pulled at them, sending them into the wild current.

      The water was stunningly cold, the river powerful.  Too powerful, for a pair of hobbits who were weak swimmers, even in placid waters.

      They struggled to swim, struggled to keep their heads above the water, struggled to head for shore… all to no avail.  The freezing river had its clutches at them, and it was not going to let them go.

      _This is it_, Sam thought wildly, _Who'd__ have thought we would die ahead of Pippin after all_…

      Suddenly, as his lungs were burning, he felt strong arms wielding him up and holding him by the chest, pulling him towards the banks.

      He gasped at the precious air, numb fingers tightening against the rope that connected him to Merry and Frodo.  He would not be rescued without them.

      Reaching the banks, he felt the arms encircle about him, anchoring him as several other men pulled on the rope, saving his two friends.

      His vision was blurry, and he coughed out the frigid river water as a coat was placed over him, drying him and warming him.  Pulled to safety beside him was Frodo and Merry, being treated similarly.

      "There is another hobbit," said a familiar voice, tinged with anxiety and dread, "He must still be in the water!"

      Sam gathered his wits about him as his eyes cleared, and he watched the King of Gondor stride towards the edge of the banks.

      "N-no, S-s-strider!" he exclaimed, teeth chattering, "Th-there iss only three of us-s." 

      "They are so cold," the man holding him commented worriedly, the voice musical and known to him as well.  Sam belatedly realizes that he was actually encased in the arms of the elf Legolas.      

      "Y-y-you c-came at the right time," Frodo managed from beside Sam, speaking to Aragorn, "As-s al-lways."

* * *

      It was difficult enough for a man of normal stature to stand comfortably in Bilbo Baggins's hut, much more for a man of Aragorn or Legolas's exceptional heights.

      As his troops made camp just outside, Aragorn and Legolas accompanied their hobbit-friends into the home, watching them as they warmed themselves before a roaring fireplace.

      "Are you feeling better?" Aragorn asked.

      "Much," Frodo replied with an uncomfortable smile.

      "Where is Master Pippin?" Legolas asked quietly, feeling the question stifling the air.

      "He is ill," Merry said, rising from his place before the fire, "You must see him."

      "I got your letter and it was about a totally different matter," Aragorn said quietly, thinking the unthinkable… _Was Pippin suffering from the plague that has broken Rohan?_

      "We believe they might be related," Frodo said, "The box that I wrote you of.  Pippin threw it into the river.  We thought it must be what is making him sick, so we wanted to retrieve it."

      "For all the good it did us," Sam said glumly, "For all the good it did Pippin.  Good thing Strider is here."

      Legolas eyed Aragorn's barely-perceptible wince.  The King burned with great passion and assurance, but he was constantly burdened by the hopes that people constantly rested upon him.

      "We wish to see Pippin," Legolas said, and immediately, the anxious hobbits led him to the Took home.  It did not surprise him that Pippin, lying upon his bed, was staring blankly and was unresponsive to them, unmoving.  Heading straight for the hobbit's bedside, Legolas took his forearms and showed the marks upon them to Aragorn.

      "Just like in Rohan," Aragorn said softly.

      "How long has he been this way?" Legolas asked.

      "A few days," Merry replied, "It started… well, he was a bit down about the creature that escaped from the box.  And then he stopped wanting to eat—"

      "Not even mushrooms," Sam added.

      "—and then he stopped wanting to go out," continued Merry, "And then he stopped wanting to speak, and then he stopped wanting to rise altogether."

      "It happens in stages," Legolas concluded quietly.

      "Is anyone else in the Shire ill?" Aragorn inquired.

      "None that we know of," Frodo replied, "And this is the Shire.  News travels very quickly.  If anyone were ill, everyone would know of it."

      "That's good," Aragorn commented, as he examined Pippin.  It was clear that the affliction was caused by the bite, and not mere contact from those who were ill.  Otherwise Frodo, Sam and Merry would be ill as well, perhaps even Legolas.  It was strange though, that the plague would ravage Rohan so, and take only one from the Shire…

      "This disease has taken all of Rohan," Legolas murmured softly, undoubtedly thinking along the same lines as his old friend, "and yet aside from Master Took, no one else.  This curse must really be meant for the race of men."

      "What curse?" Frodo asked.

      "We shall tell you later," Legolas murmured quietly in reply.

      Aragorn looked up at Legolas, brows furrowing.  What the elf said about the curse being aimed specifically at men made sense.  Perhaps Pippin only got in the way because it was he who had opened the box.  The gods were angry at men, no one else.  That meant that Gondor was the next target.

      "We must discover how to end this soon," Aragorn said gravely, "I will try to tend to Pippin with the _athelas_.  Legolas, we need to find Gandalf."

      "I shall speak to the trees and its birds," Legolas said with a nod, "They will ensure our message reaches Mithrandir.  He always comes when he is needed."

* * *

      True enough, by the end of their second day at the Shire, Gandalf arrives, borne by the beautiful Shadowfax.  He heads at once to Pippin's room, where his old wise eyes rested on the poor hobbit and despaired for him.

      "The trees have spoken to me of your message," he said to Legolas and Aragorn, who were also in the room with Merry, Sam and Frodo, making a crowd in the small space, but creating a warmth and homeliness to it, one that they all hoped would reach Pippin.

      "Have you seen this condition before?" Aragorn asked.

      Gandalf deigned to reply for the moment, looking at Pippin intently, watching his eyes, "Pippin has lost his heart."

      "We think he was bitten by the last plague of Pandora's box," Legolas said, "does this make sense to you?"

      "I've heard of it, yes," Gandalf replied thoughtfully, patting Pippin on the shoulder, "Fool of a Took," he said softly, though there was no irritation in his voice, only longing, and worry.

      "And Rohan is similarly ailing," Aragorn said to the wizard, letting the unsaid hang in the air, that he was at a loss as to how to proceed.

      "Where is the box?" Gandalf asked.

      "Pippin threw it in the river," Merry answered miserably.

      "Fool of a Took!" Gandalf exclaimed, forcefully this time.  Everyone glanced at Pippin's still form as if he would react to it.  He did not.

      "There is no way to slay this plague," Gandalf said, "One can only encase it.  And nothing could hold that evil but that box.  We must act quickly.  Not only does the plague act fast, it can bear children.  That is why the plagues that were released long ago had so increased in number, making the capture of all of them impossible.  We must recapture this final plague before it increases, or cause the fall of other cities."

      "We need that box," Frodo deduced quietly, shuddering in remembrance of his earlier plight.  That water had been too cold, too choppy.  They had been fools to even consider it, then again there was no other way.

      "The blasted box lies at the bottom of the river," Sam said, "if it hadn't been carried away.  The water is freezing and wild, the river wide, the falls at its end lethal… it could be in the ocean by now for all we know!"

      "There is one other box," Legolas said slowly, looking at Aragorn, "Exactly like Pandora's."

      "Excellent!" exclaimed Sam, "Where might it be, Legolas?"

      "In Moria."

      --

      A moment of disbelief.

      --

      Sam groaned, "Why must our paths constantly lead us that way?"

      "I would not return there unless I needed to as well," reflected Aragorn, "Our strongest swimmers will comb the river a mile-long radius from where the box was tossed.  If it does not lie anywhere there, only then shall we return to Moria."

* * *

      By the third day of the wild search, it was glaringly clear that they would not find the box in this river.

      The radius of the search has been extended and re-extended, combed and re-combed, yielding no box.  All the men of Gondor had received from the experience were several near-deaths, overexposure to the cold, and extreme weariness.

      The King himself had just pulled his tiring, freezing body from the river, sitting on the banks as Samwise wrapped a blanket about his wide shoulders.  The hobbits from the neighborhood, though they had by now realized searching the water was beyond them, worked to keep the men warm with their blankets and food.  Pippin was well-loved enough for his people to want to help in anything that could cure him, apart from the very fact that Hobbits had always been kind and hospitable.

      "Thank you, thank you," Aragorn said, his teeth chattering.  Frodo soon followed with a cup of broth that the King took gratefully, and immediately took a warming sip.  The noontime sun was high in the air, but that water had a life of its own, a time of its own.  Beside him, his men drank and rested and tried to warm themselves.  Several of them had been excused from the search party already, because of the flu and bad head colds.

      Gandalf sat on a rock along the banks, thoughtful.  

      "We won't find it here," he said quietly.

      "That is coming to my attention, yes," said Aragorn wryly, wanting to laugh and wanting to scream.  Yet as he always did, he held himself steady.

      It is at this moment that Legolas waded towards the banks, soaking wet though he looked little-bothered by it.  The only elf in the company, and blessed with the surreal resilience of his kin, he was their most ardent searcher.  He stopped not for the cold or the setting sun, but mostly for Aragorn's request, only sometimes for weariness.

      Sam handed Legolas a blanket, which he used only to dry himself.  He sat beside Aragorn, and ran the thick blanket through his long hair.  He undid the plaits in his hair, shook them dry, then pushed them back away from his face.  Aragorn looked at him in amusement.

      "Never un-presentable are you," Aragorn commented, keeping a straight face though his eyes danced.

      Legolas smirked at him.  "Thank you."

      "Human custom usually dictates the return of a compliment," Aragorn teased.

      Legolas looked at him deviously.  "Hm.  You tend to look like a wild man, but you swim well."

      Aragorn find the heart to chuckle, despite their dire circumstances.

      They fell to an affable silence, looking over at the activities of the men who were still in the water, and going in and out of it.

      "When do we go to Moria?" Legolas asked, deducing as Gandalf had that they probably not find the box here.

      "We shall search til day's end," replied Aragorn, "then I will give our men two days to recuperate and gather their strength."

      Legolas nodded, paused as he weighed his words.  "I wish to send for Gimli.  I do not want to enter any cave without a dwarf's astute familiarity with them."

      "I shall send a rider out at first light tomorrow," Aragorn said, "to convey our message to Gimli.  They can meet us at the entrance of the mine."

* * *

      The road from the Shire to Moria was long and tedious.

      Although times no longer presented the same dangers as in the height of the Dark Lord Sauron's power years ago, the uruk-hai and various other vile creatures that were raised and created for evil purposes then, had scattered all across Middle-Earth.  Hungry, vindictive, bloodthirsty creatures still roamed the length of the Earth, and the company never let their guard down.

      Some of Aragorn's men had been left to the capable hands of the Hobbits to recuperate.  While some had been absent, they had new troops join in their place: namely, that of the valiant hobbits Frodo, Sam and Merry.  While hesitant to leave Pippin's side, they had eventually decided that they can best help their friend by going on the quest and leaving him to the care of his family.

      The company made for a compact unit of Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and the three hobbits along with about ten of Aragorn's soldiers.  Not too small a group and certainly not too big.  Enough to do the job, surely.  They had all hoped to be in and out of Moria in good time.

      Aragorn rode point, alongside Gandalf, who bore Frodo with him on Shadowfax, and Legolas upon Arod.  Merry and Sam shared a small steed behind them, and were navigating their way with fair skill, chatting amicably with the soldiers who shared their pace.

      "Have you been to Moria?" Merry asked.

      "No, we have not," the soldier replied.

      "We have," Merry said proudly, though his stance faltered some as he reflected, "I'm quite proud of it.  But it's only because I didn't think we would ever have to return."

      "Well we all do what we must," Sam said wistfully.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PREVIEW OF PART 5: "The Road to Moria":

      The company gets a close encounter with the evil plague as it sinks its teeth into one who is very important to them… 

A SCENE FROM PART 5:

      ~Do not even breathe, Estel.~

      Aragorn stayed as still as he could.  Legolas was not even on the first watch, he was supposed to be resting, but Aragorn trusted the elf without bounds and did as he was told.

      Suddenly, he felt his breath knock out of him when Legolas jumped from his bedroll and against him, the elf's hands clutching at his chest as the elf rolled them both away from where Aragorn had been laying.  Then Legolas raised himself to his knees, bow and arrow already on hand, his eyes searching for something.  He released his arrow, and a strange, piercing squawking was heard, followed by a terrible odor, and the sound of wings flapping away.

      By now the entire company was roused and aware, nervously looking around them.

      "What was it?" Aragorn asked, though from the look of Legolas's face, he had already guessed.

      "It was the lizard," Legolas replied, trying to steady his nerves, lowering his bow.  He had smelled the foul odor first, then felt the creature as it crept towards Aragorn's arm.

      "Did you hit it?" Aragorn asked, raising himself from the ground.  His adrenaline was pumping.  _It had come to me so close_…

      "I believe so," Legolas replied, "But it did not do much good.  Gandalf did say they could not be slain, only captured."

      "Are you all right, Sire?" one of Aragorn's men asked.

      "Yes," the King replied, and Aragorn looked towards Legolas for counsel.  The elf nodded, giving the signal that the creature had left, they were clear for now.  "Stand down," Aragorn commanded, and weapons were lowered, "It is gone."

      Slowly, they all returned to their positions before the attack.  But without a doubt, no one would sleep a wink, if they could help it.

      Aragorn laid upon his bedroll, watching the moonlight which now brought less comfort to him. 

      Legolas, beside Aragorn was rubbing his forearm nervously, his face also turned towards the stars.

      "Thank you, my friend," Aragorn said suddenly.

      The elf started, jumped from his reverie.  He flashed Aragorn a quick smile, "Of course.  Think nothing of it."…


	5. The Road to Moria

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

PART 5

___   

The Road to Moria

___

      Night had fallen, and the group made camp.  After a quick dinner, most of the company had gone to sleep on their bedrolls, with a handful staying awake at first watch.

      Laying upon his bedroll between Legolas's and Frodo's, Aragorn finds that he could not sleep.  Staring up at the canopy of trees over his head, he watched strands of moonlight seep from the gaps between leaves, their dreamy sight easing his heart.

      His mind started to drift, and when he thought that perhaps he could sleep at last, he heard Legolas whisper from beside him in Elvish,

      ~Do not even breathe, Estel.~

      Aragorn stayed as still as he could.  Legolas was not even on the first watch, he was supposed to be resting, but Aragorn trusted the elf without bounds and did as he was told.

      Suddenly, he felt his breath knock out of him when Legolas jumped from his bedroll and against him, the elf's hands clutching at his chest as the elf rolled them both away from where Aragorn had been lying.  Then Legolas raised himself to his knees, bow and arrow already on hand, his eyes searching for something in the darkness.  He released his arrow, and a strange, piercing squawking was heard, followed by a distinctly terrible odor, and the sound of wings flapping away.

      By now the entire company was roused and aware, nervously looking around them.

      "What was it?" Aragorn asked, though from the look of Legolas's face, he had already guessed.

      "It was the lizard," Legolas replied, trying to steady his nerves, lowering his bow.  He had smelled the foul odor first, then felt the creature as it crept towards Aragorn's arm.

      "Did you hit it?" Aragorn asked, raising himself from the ground.  His adrenaline was pumping.  _It had come to me so close_…

      "I believe so," Legolas replied, "But it did not do much good.  Gandalf did say they could not be slain, only captured."

      "Are you all right, Sire?" one of Aragorn's men asked anxiously.

      "Yes," the King replied, and Aragorn looked towards Legolas for counsel.  The elf nodded, giving the signal that the creature had left, they were clear for now.  "Stand down," Aragorn commanded, and weapons were lowered, "It is gone."

      Slowly, they all returned to their positions before the attack.  But without a doubt, no one would sleep a wink, if they could help it.

      Aragorn laid upon his bedroll, watching the moonlight which now brought less comfort to him. 

      Legolas, beside Aragorn was rubbing his forearm nervously, his face also turned towards the stars.

      "Thank you, my friend," Aragorn said suddenly.

      The elf started, jumped from his reverie.  He flashed Aragorn a quick smile, "Of course.  Think nothing of it."

* * *

      Before the dawn, the scent of breakfast was already gracing the air.  The morning mist was cool and refreshing, less frigid than the night.  The company would leave at first light, and its members were already busy with packing their belongings and preparing their horses.

      Legolas watched the scene unfold before his eyes, though he felt a strange detachment towards these men.  The mist made everything look like a dream, as if he were separate from them, as if their quest was not his own.  Along the course of the night, his mission, his desire, had become entirely different from theirs…

      He shook the thought away; he has been fighting it for the length of the night, a night where he found no sleep, or rest.  His heart hammered each time he drifted to sleep, fearing that something would happen if he was not alert or on watch.

      He feared for Aragorn.  He feared that loathsome lizard would return and take Estel.  Would take _hope_.  Legolas had been bitten, of this he was sure.  And what hope he had within him would wane, as Pippin's had, as Rohan's.  But what hope remained _outside_ of him, he would cling to for as long as he could, and desperately protect.  This was Aragorn and his strength.  Legolas had decided that as long as Aragorn's eyes were closed, his would remain open.  He would protect Estel, the very last of his hope.

      "You did not sleep, did you?" were the first words sprung from Aragorn's mouth, even before his eyes opened, feeling Legolas's presence beside him.

      "You snore very loudly, you see," Legolas said, mock-gravely.

      "I apologize," the King grunted as he raised himself to his elbows, studying his friend closely, though he let the subject drop.  Legolas always had his own reasons for doing the things he did, and revealed them on his own time.  They had been friends long enough for Aragorn to know that.

      "That had been a most exciting evening, hadn't it?" Sam commented, sitting in front of Legolas and Aragorn, trailed by Merry and Frodo.  The hobbits all had their cans of breakfast, and had offered one each to Legolas and Aragorn.

      "I've already had my share, thank you," Legolas lied.  He did not have much of a care for mortal cooking, much less now.

      "Could Merry and I share this can, you think?" Sam asked, "Or should we return it?"

      "I think hobbits need all the food they can get, Sam," Legolas said with a wan smile.

      "To grow taller, eh?" snickered Merry.

      The group ate in silence for some moments.

      "It's a pretty long way still to Moria, isn't it?" Frodo asked, "I've been wondering how you are planning to overcome the obstacles there that our last visit had created."

      "Obstacles?" Aragorn asked as he munched through his food.  The statement had sounded typically-Frodo, very diplomatic.  He wondered what could be going through the hobbit's mind.

      "You know," replied Sam, "The caved-in entrance, the broken bridges, the goblins and trolls…"

      "We've more soldiers with us now," replied Aragorn, "We have ropes, and other gear.  I would not bring us there if I did not think we had a chance, my dear hobbits."

      "Sounds good to me," Merry grinned.

      Legolas watched the interplay between Estel and the hobbits.  They gave him so much trust, and he held up against such burdens so comfortably.  Aragorn was _estel_ to them all, and this only reaffirmed Legolas' new duty.  Protect Aragorn at all costs, because his hope, and that of others', rested on the King.

* * *

      Since they began to travel with the rising of the sun, the company did not stop until high noon, and only for a moment because the hobbits needed their lunch; a fair request, considering they had heroically missed their second breakfast, and would probably miss tea and supper as well, since the company stopped virtually for nothing.

      The hobbits, and some of the soldiers, contentedly munched on some fruits that they had taken from trees that they had passed.  

      "Legolas, do you want one?" Merry asked the elf, who was riding just in front of him and Sam.

      Aragorn heard this, and glanced sideways at his old friend who not only didn't reply to the hobbit's question, but in afterthought, had not uttered a word in the last hour.  The elf's eyes were open and glazed, as elves slept, and his horse Arod loyally kept his steps steady, noticing his master's inattention.

      "Shh," Aragorn said to the hobbits quietly, "he did not get a wink of sleep last night."

      Aragorn's brows furrowed in thought.  It was not like Legolas to be so inattentive along a dangerous road.  But then again, perhaps it was only because he had not slept the previous night, and had been hard at travel since he had arrived in Gondor days and days ago.  Elves were wonderfully, enviably resilient, but they certainly were not invincible.  Perhaps.

      "I heard my name," Legolas said suddenly, blinking a few times and becoming fully awake.

      "I'm sorry I woke you," Merry said, "but since you are awake already, I thought I might interest you with a fruit."

      "No thank you," Legolas said, throwing a smile at the hobbit, before turning to Aragorn sheepishly, "I'm sorry to be so lax, Estel."

      "Do not be," Aragorn said soothingly, noticing that the elf was calling him by his other name more and more lately, "I think you have pushed yourself hard enough, you deserve even more rest than you got just now."

      "Arod's feet are so light," Legolas commented, patting his horse's neck, "It is rhythmic, relaxing."  
      "I wish I could be as comfortable on a horse," Sam said with a wince, "I feel all-bruised."

      "Good thing it all eventually becomes numb," Merry said, paused and suddenly remarked, "I miss Pippin and all his complaining."

      "We shall see him soon, Merry," Frodo said reassuringly, "And have him back to his old self in no time."

* * *

      The company had passed through the Shire, and crossed Brandywine at Sarn Ford, veering from the course that led to Bree, much as the men may have wanted to sample the hospitalities of the infamous Prancing Pony Inn.  From there, they had stopped along the springs of Hoarwell for the evening, looking across the river at the fallen lands of Eregion, where elf-smiths had once lived, and now of no trace could be found, being an empty forest.

      "Eregion is still much burdened with its history," Legolas said breathlessly, feeling the stir of the air, achingly empty.

      "After Eregion," said Gandalf, "We near the West Gate of Moria."

      Merry looked at the old wizard curiously, "Does it bother you any to return there, Gandalf?"

      The wizard pondered the question for a moment.  "I am not bothered.  I am almost curious."

      "At least we would not have to deal with the balrog this time," Frodo said.

* * *

      They had set up camp near the springs, where the freshest water was abundant.  They were quite near to Rivendell, though Aragorn found it prudent not to make any stops that they did not need; they were pressed for time as it was.

      As they settled the camp and started a warming fire, Aragorn noticed that Legolas was nowhere to be found.  The elf, always busy and about, had gone off on his own for some strange thing.  Looking around, Aragorn's eyes settled on the familiarly lithe figure of his old friend some distance away from the camp, sitting upon a curved branch of an old tree that rooted next to the river, its branches extending right over the spring waters.

      Never taking his eyes off the elf, Aragorn let his seasoned men continue the preparations of camp and sauntered over to Legolas.  The elf had noticed his arrival, and looked down at the King from the comfortable branch he perched upon.  There was a glow about the moon, heightened by its reflection on the river.  It turned Legolas's face ashen, his hair silver, his eyes glinting.  In that light, he streamed with the power of his kin.

      "You sure know to pick your spots," Aragorn commented from the ground, studying the tree and wondering how to make his way up.

      "I'll come down," Legolas told him, reading his face.

      Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.  "Are you undermining my skills?"

      "Of course not," Legolas said, sighing in consternation.  But he watched his friend make his way up the tree with so much intensity, as if he feared the King would fall.

      Aragorn reached his side without incident, and sat with him in companionable silence.  The sight was breathtaking indeed, the moon against the river, the dark lands glowing dimly in the night.

      Legolas seemed captured by it, his usually sharp eyes dull as he stared.  He was absently running his right hand across his left forearm, as if deep in thought.

      "Are you cold?" Aragorn asked.

      "Hm?" Legolas said distractedly, looking at Aragorn, "What?"

      "Rubbing your arms," Aragorn pointed out, "As if you were cold."

      "Elves don't get cold," Legolas reminded him, "Or at least, not unless the conditions were truly, truly unbearably harsh."

      Legolas stopped rubbing his forearm, fearing that Aragorn would notice the bite.  Estel was a sharp man.  Legolas was surprised he did not yet know by now.  

      They fell into silence again, though Legolas could practically hear Aragorn's tumultuous thoughts.

      "I'm sorry, my friend," Aragorn said softly, at last, and Legolas knew by that infernal tone that his sentence had been pronounced, "I should have been more attentive.  I should have known sooner.  But I feared the possibility so greatly that I may have pushed it to the back of my mind…"  
      "Maybe it does not have an effect on elves," Legolas remarked, though they both knew it was a lie, just as they both knew what the other was talking about, without expressly stating it.

      "Let me see," Aragorn said, and very much like the mighty King that he was, he took the elf's forearm without really awaiting permission.  He pushed back the layers of sleeves of Legolas's tunic, and found the blistering twin punctures surrounded by a dark bruise.

      "Does it hurt?" Aragorn asked.

      "Nothing that would bother me," replied Legolas, "Truly!" he insisted upon Aragorn's measuring, skeptical look.

      Aragorn drew out his pack, and his _athelas_ and bandages, beginning to work on the wound immediately.

      "Maybe it will not affect me," Legolas said again, a smile resting upon his voice, "since I am getting the royal treatment.  Kingsfoil from the King! Miracles abound, for sure!"

      "You are terribly insolent and obnoxious," Aragorn said, struggling with a straight face.

      "You sound like my _ada_," Legolas remarked.

      "I sound like _my_ _ada_," Aragorn chuckled, tying the wound securely.  They were chuckling, and trying to make light of the situation, though Legolas realized belatedly that Estel's hands shook slightly, and the bandages were wound too tight, as if he could hide them, and bind them, and press them until they vanished.

      "It's too tight, Estel," Legolas told him softly.

      "I'm sorry," Aragorn said, his quick hands redoing the bandages, "I must be losing my touch."

      Legolas thought about letting the subject drop for a moment, before finally deciding against it.

      "Do not fear for me, Estel," Legolas told him quietly.

      "How can I not?" Aragorn grunted distractedly, finishing up with the bandages, though he studied them still, as if he could not look Legolas in the eye.  Legolas pulled his arm away from Aragorn's hands and watched him closely, willing him to look at his face.

      "Because I will not let this take me," Legolas said, "I may lose my hope, but I have not lost my sense of duty.  I have set out to protect this land, and my friends, and in that I will not fail, or stop."

      "You swear to this?" Aragorn asked intently, "by your name.  By your honor.  You swear this to me, and I will not fear."

      Legolas weighed this request carefully.  Was it his promise to make? Was his strength so true? Was his will so great?  _Would it be enough_?

      "I swear."

      They fell into silence again, a silence now more potent, so powerful was it, as if their words and all that they entailed hung in the air with all their conviction.

      Suddenly, cries from the camp pierced the calm night, and the two warriors jumped from the places and ran into camp, weapons drawn.

      There were no enemies in sight, though the foul scent in the air guaranteed the plague had stirred the night once again.

      Moving ahead of Aragorn, Legolas followed the scent and released another arrow.  It did not meet its mark; the lizard was cunning.  But it discouraged it, and it flew away in its usual flapping and screeching.

      Surveying the camp, it was very clear that though the threat was quickly dispersed, it had already done its damage.  Four out of ten of Aragorn's men had been bitten.  

      Balling his fists in frustration, Aragorn's mind raced as he formulated a contingency plan.  

      "We cannot afford to have them on this road," Aragorn's second-in-command told him, "This is Moria, sire.  And their condition will deteriorate, though it may not be manifest now."

      Aragorn glanced up at Gandalf, as if waiting for him to suggest something.  The wizard all but shrugged at him.  

      "Send them to my father in Rivendell, at first light," Aragorn said, "The four who are bitten, plus two men to tend to them.  They will be welcomed in Rivendell and looked after.  Leave four of the unhurt soldiers with us to go to Moria.  I will trust your discretion in picking who."

      The second-in-command nodded, immediately turning towards his duties.  Aragorn was looking pointedly at Legolas, who was staring at him intently.

      ~Do not send me to Rivendell, Estel,~ Legolas told Aragorn in Elvish, in a low voice.  Gandalf stared at the elf, knowing what the words meant: Legolas was himself bitten.

      ~I swore to you this would not take me,~ Legolas said, ~that this would not jeopardize our quest.  And I can sense the plague.  You need me.~

      Aragorn studied the elf's face.  Yes, they needed him, there was little doubt of that.  In the deep darkness of Moria, nothing but the elf's astute senses could offer him assurance.  But it seemed… Legolas needed them too.  He needed the mission to focus on, he needed a duty, because his hopes had left him.  His duties gave him a purpose without which he would surely fall into despair, that aching despair that made less-stubborn folk succumb to the bite of the plague.

      ~I swore to you,~ Legolas repeated.

      "Let the crazy young Prince come," Gandalf said wearily, "he knows his limits.  He knows himself."

      ~I'll take your word,~ Aragorn said to his friend gravely, ~You had just better keep it.~

      ~When did I not?~ Legolas replied, his eyes grateful.

      "We all set out for our own paths at dawn," Aragorn said.

TO BE CONTINUED

PREVIEW OF PART 6, "New Allies, New Enemies."

      The orcs decide to take advantage of the weakness of men, and a pair of twins decide to go along for the quest to save Middle-Earth…

A SCENE FROM PART 6

            ~Estel had better capture that cursed curse soon,~ Elrohir concluded, his tone thoughtful as he considered coming along…

      ~We leave for Moria in the morning?~ Elladan asked his twin reading his mind.  Elrohir immediately nodded.

      Elrond had given up trying to save his sons from themselves.  He could only trust that he had raised them well.  But he did not have to pretend to be pleased about it.  He scowled shamelessly.

      ~I bet the Prince of Mirkwood is in this adventure as well,~ Elrohir said.

      ~Look at _ada's_ face,~ Elladan teased his father, ~He is considering forming a club of frustrated fathers with King Thranduil.~

      ~A club of _overburdened_ fathers, Elladan,~ Elrond sighed, ~Look after each other.  Be safe.~


	6. New Allies, New Enemies

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

Part 6: "New Allies, New Enemies"

___

Rivendell

___

      ~Why do all my sons only return to me only in times of trouble?~ Lord Elrond asked flatly, looking at his untidy twin sons dispassionately, Elladan and Elrohir having just returned from another adventure.

      ~Estel is here?~ Elladan asked, looking side by side as if their mortal 'brother' would pop out from somewhere.

      ~No,~ replied Elrond, ~But he sent me some of his soldiers, who have been stricken by a plague we've not seen before.  They told me about Estel's new quest.~

      ~I hope he is not similarly ailing,~ Elrohir commented anxiously, ~What is this new affliction? Humans can be so fragile.~

      ~It is unlike any other disease,~ answered Elrond, ~It is a curse put upon them by older gods from long ago.  The hobbit Pippin accidentally released an imprisoned plague, that takes the hope from the heart of a man.  It has already taken Rohan.~

      ~It doesn't sound too bad,~ Elrohir remarked.

      ~Humans can and have raised themselves up from the direst straits with their oft-foolish, oft-crazy passions, son,~ Elrond said, ~Through evils they can survive and rebuild.  But hopelessness tears out their souls.~

      ~You say Estel has taken upon himself a quest?~ Elladan asked, ~To slay this plague, surely.  He ought to be done with it by sundown.~

      ~This plague cannot be slain,~ said Elrond, ~It can only be recaptured, and it can only be encased in the box of Pandora.  Nothing else can hold it.  The only box they can get their hands on lies within the mines of Moria.~

      Elladan winced.  ~They sure know to complicate things.  We have ill tidings as well, and the circumstances are beginning to make sense.~

      ~In our travels, we have found that there's an increase in the activity of orcs,~ Elrohir said, ~We've not seen anything like it since before the fall of Sauron.  The scattered forces are coordinating.  They seem to be banding themselves together.  If men are afflicted by this plague and weakened by it, and with their elven allies sailing away in shiploads, then the orcs would find no more opportune moment than this to stake their claims all across Middle-Earth.  It will be completely overrun.~

      Elrond took a deep breath, pondering his sons' words.

      ~Estel had better capture that cursed curse soon,~ Elrohir concluded, his tone thoughtful as he considered coming along… _Ada__ would not be pleased_… _But when did that ever stop us_?

      ~We leave for Moria in the morning?~ Elladan asked his twin, reading the other's mind easily.  Elrohir immediately nodded.

      Elrond had long since given up trying to save his sons from themselves.  He could only trust that he had raised them well.  But he did not have to pretend to be pleased about it.  He scowled shamelessly and with great indulgence.

      ~I bet the Prince of Mirkwood is in this adventure as well,~ Elrohir said, almost excitedly, ~This would make for another great tale, I bet.~

      ~Look at _ada's_ face,~ Elladan teased his father, ~He is considering forming a club of frustrated fathers with King Thranduil.~

      ~A club of _overburdened_ fathers, Elladan,~ Elrond corrected him, sighing, ~Look after each other.  Be safe.~

___

Rohan

___

      Gimli shifted uncomfortably on the horse that was given to him.  The blasted elf had sent for him through an unwitting messenger, one of Aragorn's soldiers.  The fool of a man did not know that dwarfs were just about as comfortable on a steed as a human was on a… on a troll (i.e. _not very_).  But he was too proud to have to ask the soldier to share a horse, as he often did with the elf.  Legolas had been gracious enough never to expressly ask him to share, letting him keep his pride.

      _Ride this way all the way to Moria_, he thought miserably, _I will have the elf's head when I see him_.

      But he missed his old companion more than he cared to admit, and though the road was harsh and his backside complained, he could not help but feel some excitement.  The elf would be there.  And the soldier-messenger said that the King Elassar was also in the company, and some hobbits, as well as the wizard Gandalf.

      This stirred Gimli's blood, and the young soldier obliged him and all of his urgent questions.  It was from the soldier that Gimli had heard of what the plague exactly was, that Pippin was stricken with it, and why they were returning to the mines.

      _Almost like old times_…

      Gimli glanced sideways at Faramir, lordly upon his own horse.  He was young, and always so serious.  More serious than his fallen brother Boromir, who had been strong in his heavier and lighter passions, mighty with heart and laughter.  Faramir seemed often-burdened, and had battled himself just hours ago, loathe to leave his assigned duties in Rohan, but feeling this was a journey he had to take…

      _"I want to see the paths my brother walked," _he had said, and Gimli could not deny him anymore than he could deny himself.  Things were complicated enough as they were, but Faramir had a box of his own to close… that of the past.

      And with that, Rohan had been left in good hands with Eowyn, as it always was, and with the rest of the soldiers and healers Gondor had sent her.  The young soldier-messenger stayed as well, trading posts with Faramir.  He was young, yes, but would not have been in the King's private guard, or sent to Rohan on his own from the Shire if he were without skill.  It was enough to appease Faramir's fears, and he and Gimli set out towards Moria. 

___

Borders of Hollin

___

      _A barren waste_… Legolas reflected darkly, as he and the rest of the company navigated the familiar red-stoned, empty paths of Eregion, or Hollin.  The last time he was here was with the fellowship of the ring, then as now, looking for the western gates of Moria.  

      _Folk used to walk these lands_, he thought miserably, now there was no one.  No streaming waters, no birds, nothing of _anything_…

      It was pathetically dead, achingly empty, completely devoid.  Whoever had once been here have left, and one day, he too would make his own departure.  He was struck with the fact that one day, the calling of the sea would claim him, and he would leave this Earth, and he would leave all his friends, or they would die and leave him… Either way, he did not belong with them.  He did not belong _here_.  This quest was not his.  This world was not his, nor was it ever.  He was uselessly complicating his life by making crazy _mortal_ attachments that were too-fleeting, with all of their crazy _mortal_ problems…

      He was alone.  And he had _nothing_.

      "I've never seen you scowl before," Estel told him quietly, riding beside him.

      "It's this place," Legolas replied dispassionately, saying naught else, finding no inclination to.

      "I do not recall you looking like that the last time we were here," Aragorn said.

      "That was then," the elf snapped.

      --

      "I'm sorry," Legolas said quickly, "I'm sorry, Estel.  I can't explain it," he said again, uselessly, by way of explanation, "It's this place."

      _Or it's this bite_…

      He shook the thought away.

      "Do you think Gimli will arrive before we do?" Legolas asked, shifting subjects quickly, asking a question the answer to which he already knew, his eyes begging his friend to follow his lead.

      "I doubt it," Aragorn replied, taking his cue, "My soldier was quick, but it was a long way from the Shire to Rohan, and a long way still from Rohan to Moria.  He should arrive by the time we have cleared up the boulders from the entrance.  The foul beast from the water the last time had not been too kind to the gate."

      Legolas could have smiled; it was a profound understatement.  The last time they had been in Moria, a many-tentacled beast from the bleak black water near the gate tore through the cliffs, sending the entrance into a wild collapse.

      They rode in silence, the hooves of their horses rhythmically slapping against what was left of an ancient highroad.  Every once in awhile, they would encounter more reminders of the fallen Eregion, like weathered paving stones and remnants of old, broken walls.

      They followed the path that they had taken as the fellowship of the ring-- up a slope, eventually reaching slim, level ground facing the dark, forbidding, reflection-less lake, home of the beast they had once encountered.  The lake was placid before the gate of Moria and its rock-face walls, though the entrance now a shambles, blocked by a pyramid-like stack of boulders large and small.

      "It did not look this bad the last time," Sam commented, eyes widening at the sight of the rocks.

      "We were on the other side," Merry reminded him, "and it was darker than the darkest night of the Shire to see anything."

      "Do not disturb the water," Aragorn commanded his companions, as they maneuvered through the strip of land between the still lake and the cliff walls.

      "We need no reminding, Strider!" Merry said breathlessly, "I wish the beast would just sleep until it dies!"

      "I would sooner cut my thumb and a leg than disturb it," Sam agreed, "A foul beast it was."

      The group dismounted their horses, cautious of any part of themselves making contact with the water.  Aragorn stood before the rubble, thinking of the best way to go through it.

      "I do not know what magic the King could pull to solve this," Sam said under his breath to Frodo, "What do you think, Master Frodo?"

      "Give him a few moments," said his friend with a wan smile, "He is never at a loss for very long.  If ever."

      "Legolas, your feet are the lightest," Aragorn said to the elf, "I want you to climb up to the top of the rubble," as he spoke, he measured his soldiers with his eyes, and in minutes, everyone had a place along the pyramid-like mound of stones, Legolas near the top.  The elf dislodged the top-most stones and passed them down, rock by rock passed through from one soldier to another.  The hobbits took over the bottom, and moved the rocks out of the way, next to the cliff wall.

      For hours and hours they worked that way, until eventually they freed a man-sized hole at the top of the rubble.  By this time, the sun was setting, and they called it a night.

      "We can probably go inside by midmorning," Aragorn said, wiping the sweat off his brow as he and his companions settled down for the evening.

      "We mean to make camp here?" Sam asked meekly, staring distrustfully at the water.

      "If we do not stir it," Gandalf said, "It will not seek our trouble.  The last time had cost the beast as much hurt as he had cost us.  You notice, we have been here for hours without his bother."

      "I hope so," Sam said, though he wrinkled his nose, somehow skeptical, "You would not take any offense, would you Gandalf, if I still couldn't close my eyes to sleep with that water by my feet?"

      "Of course not," the wise wizard chuckled.

      Gradually, the night's activities wound down, and most of the men settled for a tired, though uneasy sleep.  At first watch, Legolas and one of the soldiers, a young officer named Jullian, sat pensively on opposite ends of the camp, senses alert to the nuances of their surroundings.

      "Good night, Legolas!" Merry said to the elf, as he settled on his bedroll near Legolas's feet.  Sam and Frodo had each taken a place next to Strider, whose strength was reassuring.  Merry found the presence of the elf just as comfortable, so he sought him out.  

      "Sleep well, Merry," Legolas greeted back with a wan smile, though slightly distracted.  The hobbit found this not reassuring at all.  

      _How could anyone sleep well_, Merry thought miserably, _after seeing such a look on your face_?

      Merry was a spirited hobbit, who had a good taste for food, drink, relaxation and pleasure.  Sleep should not be hard at all, and he certainly tried.  But Legolas' anxious face hovered in his mind, and Merry was intelligent enough to know that one most certainly _does NOT_ ignore the instincts of an elf.

      He pushed himself up to his elbows and opened his mouth to ask, just as Legolas exclaimed, "Orcs!"

      It was word enough to get everyone in the camp scrambling for their weapons, eyes narrowing and struggling to see in the dark.  For a breathless moment, they moved in a lose circle with their backs to each other, their swords and arrows facing outwards, to a silence that seemed dreadfully empty.

      "I hate waiting," Merry said under his breath.

      Legolas' bow sang, probably twice though his movements were so swift they were barely distinguishable, until one heard the arrows meeting their marks, and the bodies falling.

      From the shadows, a small group of orcs jumped towards them, reckless and wild, as fierce as ever.

      Swords raised, the company fought bravely, the hobbits holding their own in battle.  The protective circle held, and the orcs backed away, parried, assaulted.  Their heavy steps eventually led them to the shallows of the water, to Samwise's great dismay.

      "Not the water, not the water!" he was exclaiming at them uselessly as he attacked with his sword. While he sincerely believed that orcs belonged upon a monster's belly, he did have a care for the fact that once stirred, _this_ monster of a monster would not be able to tell orc from human or orc from hobbit, and would grab him by the feet with those scaly tentacles… He fervently did not wish to be in a monster's belly, much less with an orc! What misfortune! An aberration of a misfortune!

      No sooner had the threat began though, that it had dispersed.  The orcs have fallen, and those who could run away fled back into the night.  None of the company had been hurt, save for minor bruises, and a certainty that once again, there would be no restful sleep for them this night.

      It took Sam a moment to notice that they had aid, and the most marvelous kind.  Elladan and Elrohir, majestic upon their horses, was before the company, just lowering their swords and bows.

      "Trouble again, Estel?" Elladan asked, his face straight though his eyes glistened.

      "Yes, for you two have just arrived," Aragorn remarked coolly, though his eyes shared the same warmth.

      "Don't stand too close to the water!" Merry told the twins.  They were lucky the heavy footfalls of the orcs did not stir the water beast as it was; it would be mighty unfortunate if they were plagued by it now.

      "Oh that," Elrohir said, "It's been dead for some time now."

      Sam looked at the water skeptically, "But this water looks as bleak and forbidding as ever."

      "Make no mistake, it remains a danger," Elrohir said, dismounting, "But not the kind that you fear."

      "I would fear any kind, that comes from there," Frodo said good-naturedly.

      "Fair enough, Frodo," Elladan said with a smile, dismounting his horse as well.  He turned towards Legolas.  "And how fares the Prince of Mirkwood?"

      "Well," replied Legolas easily, "As always."

      "King Thranduil would be pleased to here that," Elrohir commented, "He would be pleased to hear some news from you, for that matter."

      "I think 'pleased' is an exaggeration," Elladan reflected, "he would be just as 'pleased' with Legolas as _ada_ is with us."

      "You mean not very," smiled Legolas.

      "I mean almost not at all!" Elrohir laughed.

      "I hear you are in search of Pandora's box," Elladan said to Aragorn.

      "Not the original one," Aragorn told him, "but a replica, almost exactly the same.  It lies within Moria."

      "Moria is a large place," Elladan pointed out.

      "A box so precious could only be in one place within Moria," Aragorn answered, glancing at Gandalf, "Wouldn't you say so?"

      "Yes," agreed the wizard, "The treasuries of the dwarves lie in the deepest recesses of the mine.  Here they have their gold, their jewels, their _mithril_."

      "I've heard of these treasuries," Elrohir said, "They lie so deep, and are so ominous that even orcs fear to tread there."

      "Exactly," said Gandalf, "Orcs have pillaged Moria for years, such that if the box were anywhere else in the mine, it has probably been looted and we may never find it.  But its value is so great it could not have been placed anywhere else but the treasury and hence, away from the greedy clutches of orcs."   

      "And now we hope to find it," Legolas said flatly, knowing of this part of the plan just now, "In the deepest spaces of the mines.  You told us the last time we were here that the treasuries were also probably submerged in water."   

      "That is a great likelihood, yes," said Gandalf.

      _Then what in the world are we still doing here_? was the hopeless cry that hung in the air, at least for Legolas, who did not have the heart to voice it.  To be able to show his fear, shatter his mask, break his _promise_, was a privilege he did not have, nor cared or dared to have.

      "You say this is a replica," Elrohir said, "Perhaps our chances would be better with the original."

      "If you want to search the sea," Sam said miserably.

      "Well then," breathed Elladan, "The treasury of Moria is surely smaller than the sea.  I like our odds.  Do you like our odds, brother?"

      "I don't like our odds," Elrohir said, "I love our odds."

      Merry was looking at them as if they had lost their minds.  Gandalf looked resigned.  Aragorn looked at them wryly. 

      "I have the dire duty of informing you of an added complication," Elladan said to Aragorn, "Orcs are gathering.  Men are at their weakest now.  They think it is their time to strike, and claim your lands."

      Aragorn's jaw set, fearing he had left Gondor to the mercies of those infernal beasts…

      "But there is not too little of them to gather in the first place," Elrohir pointed out, "their numbers are few, compared to when they had been the servants of Sauron.  If the Rohirrim could only gather their feet, I'm sure the orcs would not present a grave problem."

      Aragorn called upon his soldiers, and before saying anything to them, turned to the twins quickly, "This is our task, now.  We are nearest it and we must succeed.  But Gondor and Rohan must not be caught unprepared, or uninformed."

      "You needn't send any of your few remaining riders out," Elladan said, "_Ada_ sent his own, to inform your people.  All of us here have now _this_ task before us, and none else."

      Aragorn sent a prayer to his perceptive foster father gratefully.  The members of the company were looking at him with eyes that burned with a potent mix of fear and determination.  Time had caught up with them.  They had to move quicker now.

      "We work through the night," Aragorn said, and was met by agreeing nods, "I know how foolishly dangerous it seems, and you are all free to come and go as you please.  I do not ask, or force anyone to go in there with me."

      "You never have to," Frodo told him.

* * *

      The company had worked through the night, and as dawn broke, they had cleared up enough of the boulders to be able to enter the mine.  Their horses they had left outside the gate, guarded by two of Aragorn's men.  The other two, Jullian and Aragorn's second-in-command Triste, joined the company into Moria.  The west gate they had cleared would also be their exit, for they were certain coming through the eastern gate would be almost impossible and profoundly dangerous, since Gandalf the Grey had torn its bridges when the fellowship of the ring had come through Moria years before.

      They decided to have breakfast after their work, basking in the warming, assuring light of the sun, before they were banished altogether to the darkness of Moria.  It was at this time that Gimli and Faramir arrived, their horses cantering towards the group.

      "I didn't think you would be going in without me!" the dwarf said triumphantly, jumping off his horse and landing heavily upon the ground.

      "And the dwarf arrives just in time to eat," Legolas could not help but be drawn into the excited fire of his friend's eager eyes, "And when the boulder-work is already done."

      "Faramir and I have been by the trees since yesterday," the dwarf joked, "And did not wish to be part of that grueling work, so we hung back."

      "Clever of you," Aragorn told him with a welcoming smile, his eyes trailing towards Faramir, who looked back at him straightly.

      "I wish to see the paths my brother walked, Sire.  I entrusted Rohan into the best hands, I assure you," he said to his King.

      Aragorn measured him for a moment, and accepted this with a nod.  "His paths were wide and well-met.  I do not fear that his brother would have any less strength."

      "When do we go in?" Gimli asked.

TO BE CONTINUED

PREVIEW OF PART 7, "The Deeps of Moria"

      The company discovers even more horrors in the legendary mine, and find the treasure they seek to be so near and yet despairingly far, as their quest nears its end.


	7. The Deeps of Moria

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

PART 7: "The Deeps of Moria"

___

The Deeps of Moria

___

      Moria was as all-encompassing-ly bleak and at the same time grossly fascinating as it had been the first time they walked through it, and most likely all the other times they would return, if ever they found need or inclination to in the future.

      The cavernous halls still held their hallowed, hushed, ghostly reverence, and the darkness seemed liquid and pliant, smothering their little light.

      After breaking through the rubble at the west gate, they had come upon the same wide, two-hundred-step-long staircase as before, leading to a long, level hall that did not seem to end.

      Gandalf, as before, held the lead with his staff dimly glowing.  Also like before, Gimli trailed close by him, perhaps by instinct, perhaps in remembrance.  Gimli was followed by Legolas, who moved alongside the old soldier Triste, as well as Merry.  Behind them were Jullian and Faramir with Frodo and Sam, the soldiers bearing torches.  Holding the rear guard were the twins and Aragorn.

      "It is always night here," Merry said softly to Legolas, "Do you ever try to think about what it must have been like before, though? All these dwarves and elves in splendor, trade flourishing, these vast halls glowing with these beautiful burning lamps.  Do you ever think about it?"

      "No," Legolas replied quietly after a moment, "Because if you start thinking about that, they all seem like sad ghosts unknowingly headed for an inevitably destroyed fate."

      "I wish you had not said the g-word," Merry chastised, shivering, suddenly finding that it was sad, and undoubtedly scary, to think about who once walked these splendid halls, and whose _ghosts_ stalked it vindictively, or with great loss and longing.  

      They traveled quietly for a time, Moria was hopelessly smothering, killing the light, halting sounds, stretching time in its infinite space and darkness.  

      '_It is always night here_,' Merry had said, and indeed it was.

      "Something stalks us," Elrohir said to Aragorn quietly, "They have been doing so for quite some time now."

      "As before," affirmed Aragorn, "you hear the pattering, busy feet and feel the eyes of goblins and whichever forces lie in this infernal dark.  The shadows appear at the corners of your eyes, then vanish into whichever depths lie here and there."

      "Yet they do not attack us," said Elladan, "It is as if they are waiting to see what business we have in their realm."

      "They are no longer servants of the Dark Lord," Aragorn said, "Now they only consider this their home, their retreat.  They would follow us with caution, and hang back until they are certain of what we want."

      "I do not find myself very comfortable with that," Elrohir admitted.

      "Nor do I," said Aragorn, "But you must believe me, it is far better than if they came out of the dark and attacked us."

      For endless hours they labored.  The paths were long and dim at best, and the floor was peppered by gaps and holes from neglect.  They went from one cavernous hall to another, passed through glaringly, contrastingly narrow passages and meandering ways.  They moved without stopping, willing to be in and out in the quickest way possible.

      At last, they arrived at a hall that ended in three paths.  The fellowship of the ring had stopped here before, when Gandalf had been wondering to which path they must go.  The three paths were arched, and distinctly different.  The one to the left had stairs that led downward.  The one in the middle was level ground.  The one on the far right moved upward.  This was the path the fellowship of the ring had taken, and it led to the bridge of Khazad-dum and ultimately, the East Gate.  This time around, they would surely not take this path.  

      The company paused before the fork, as if they even had to ponder where to go.  The treasuries were in the deepest spaces of Moria, and the left-most path, because it plunged downward, must lead them to it.  Yet they all looked to Gandalf with some uncertainty.

      "Near here lies the grave of Balin," said Gimli, "And the last stand of the dwarves in Moria."

      Legolas patted his friends arm, knowing the dwarf's return would also cost him the grief of remembrance.

      "Let the dead lie," Legolas said softly.

      "I know, elf," said Gimli gruffly, his tone harsh though Legolas knew him enough to know better than to take any offense.

      "We take the left path," Gandalf said, "And I find we must stay here awhile, and gather our strength."

      "Yes," agreed Aragorn, "We have traveled much and without rest.  If the deeps are as perilous as the legends tell, we must be as strong as we could to face it." 

* * *

      They ate quickly, and bedded down for a few hours.  Though it was not restful, for the gnawing dark of the left-most passage seemed to mock them, and all at once call upon them.

      "What evils could are there in the deeps, Gandalf?" Sam asked the wizard softly, both being on first watch with the elf Elrohir.

      "Even I could not speak of them," Gandalf admitted, "I only hear that it is a foul place."

      "Perhaps because none who had gone down lived to tell their hideous tale," Elrohir pointed out.

      This gripped Sam's heart with fear, but it has never stopped him before.  "Then we will be the first."

      Elrohir looked at him approvingly, with admiration, "Yes, Master Sam.  To add to your already long-list of heroics and achievements."

      Sam reddened in embarrassment.  "And yet sometimes, I wish that my life were just like any other's.  Back to the ol' Shire, without much care, certainly without trouble.  And yet if I hadn't done the things I found I've had to do, I'm afraid I couldn't have known such friends as you, or known myself very well, for that matter."

      "Adversity shows you who you really are," agreed Gandalf, "We all see the stuff we are made of."

      "And what stuff!" exclaimed Sam, "Like Aragorn, for instance.  He is practically made of _mithril_!"

      "Pipe down, Sam," Elrohir told him softly, "Estel almost has the ears of an elf, even in sleep.  You might awaken him."

      "Sorry," the hobbit murmured, "So uh… with your elf ears, what have you been hearing in the darkness?"

      "Goblins," replied Elrohir, "yet they do not attack us.  Just now, I've heard their snickering.  It almost makes me feel as if they've decided not to bother with us, let the deeps claim us.  They laugh at our ambition."

      "Do you think they know what is down there?" Sam asked.

      "Perhaps they've lost some of their kind to the deeps," Elrohir replied, "I cannot know.  They will be watchful of us, but they will let us do as we please, for now."

      "I don't know if this is a good thing," Sam admitted, "The deeps must be horrendous indeed if even the devils of Moria stay away from it, and laugh at us when we desire to go there."

      "At least they leave us alone," Elrohir pointed out, "This is one more chance to see what else we are made of."

* * *

      They had taken the left passage, and though it had already seemed impossible for Moria to be even darker, the passage certainly was.  It was the blackest black, and the range of the torches had been smaller, and the company held closely to each other.  The air was dank and chilled, and the torches offered them little light or warmth.

      The passage went downwards seemingly endlessly, the stairway narrow and steep, twisting and curving.  Once in awhile, they would come upon arched passages lining the stairway, long corridors that were so long and dark, none of them could really see by their poor light where it led.

      They moved downwards for hours on end, the company tired, their nerves fraught.  They knew they had gone truly deep when the walls turned dripped and ran with water, indicating that they had perhaps reachedthe levels of Moria beneath rivers and lakes.  This insistent dripping made the steps slicker, their journey all the more difficult as their boots slipped and slid, and once in awhile, a member of the company finds the need to grab at another's arm to regain balance.

      The more sensitive members of the company, like the elves, knew also that they had gone very very deep when the whispers and pattering feet of the goblins gradually stilled and vanished altogether.  They were no longer being watched, or followed.  This was all at once a relief and an indication of greater danger.

      The company rounded a corner, and Gandalf, at the head of the pack, suddenly stopped.

      "Gandalf?" Frodo inquired from near the back.

      "We have reached the end of the stairway," Gandalf replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was looking at something with great reverence, "We have reached the treasury."

      The stairway had indeed ended, and the company moved forward to find an arched room, that was entirely open on one side, though it was too dark to see what lay there.  The chamber had smaller arched openings on its left and right walls, leading probably to similar rooms. 

      They headed for the wide opening, and Gandalf stopped upon its edge.  Curiously, water lapped at his feet at the edge of the room.

      "Behold," he said softly, and he raised his staff higher and let its powerful glow light the abyss.

      Not even the elves, for all of their great crafts could keep from catching their breath.  Not even Aragorn, for all of his worldliness.  Not even Gimli, who has seen many a cave before.

      The sight before them was a wonder.  The arched chamber they were in seemed to be but one of many that lined a wide, circular pool of the clearest water any of them had ever seen.  The rock-ceiling over the pool was wide and high.  

      "This is beautiful," Sam marveled.

      "But if this is the untouched treasury," pointed out Merry, "Where is all the treasure?"

      "Down there," Frodo nodded towards the water.

      They all turned towards the clear water.  It seems that the water level used to be much lower, for submerged in the water were at least five floors of circularly-arranged arched chambers much like the one they were in.  Gandalf's staff's light made twinkling little reflections from beneath the water; there was gold and silver down upon those chambers!

      Aragorn squatted before the water's edge, touching it tentatively.  "I've never seen water so unclouded," he said as he looked upon it.  The water was so clear they had an idea of just how deep it was, and it seemed to go on and on and on down below, until their sight ended in an abyss that the light could no longer reach.

      "Or so deep," murmured Elladan, "Even in water so clear, one could not even see the bottom, because it goes so far that the light could no longer reach it." 

      "But this brings me hope," said Elrohir, "These treasures are definitely untouched.  If the box was ever here, it most definitely still is."

      "We search the chambers floor by floor," said Aragorn, "And in shifts."

      "I wish to go in the first," Elrohir said, his eyes twinkling, "I could not wait to see what marvelous little secrets the treasuries of Moria hold."

      "Me too," said Elladan.

      "Elrohir, Faramir, Jullian and myself will go first," Aragorn decided, "then Legolas, Triste and Elladan," he noted the disappointed look in the latter, and switched his tongue to Elvish, ~I do not trust this water, brother.  I do not want you and Elrohir there at the same time.  I would not want _ada_ to lose you both at the same time, if something should happen.~

      "I wish I were as strong as you in the water," Gimli grumbled, "And yet I'm afraid we dwarves are not properly built for such things."

      "The same goes with hobbits," said Merry.

      "We all help in the best ways we can," Gandalf said soothingly.

      "Let us begin," Aragorn said.

* * *

      Along their journey through Moria, Gandalf had lit their way by a dim glow of his staff.  Apparently, he had been saving up his energy to better light the search upon the treasury, and he sat by the edge of the water with his staff aloft, focusing his strength for the long rummaging ahead of them.

      The hobbits and Gimli had searched the floor they were in, moving from one chamber to another that surrounded the deep pool.  There were no treasures here.  They also found a stairwell that led to the lower chambers, but this too was flooded.  The first search party had preferred to just jump in the pool and swim to the chambers directly below, instead of going through the narrow stairwells.

      The hobbits had a fire going after their fruitless searching, and the remains of the group sat about it, though their minds were distracted by their friends beneath the water, rising up to take gulps of air every few minutes in hurried gasping.  The longer their search, the more tired they became, and the more breaths they took.

      At last, the four searchers had emerged from the water and swam towards the chamber, completing their area without luck, though certainly with some spoils.

      Elrohir, Aragorn, Faramir and Jullian triumphantly eased themselves off the pool and onto the level ground of the chamber, and the hobbits and the others gave them space by the fire.  The water had been cold, and they had been in it for more than an hour.

      "Look," Elrohir said to the company, drawing a pair of swords he had brought with him from the submerged chambers, "Swords of _mithril_."

      "Those are not yours to take!" snapped Gimli, "such treasures belong to the dwarves!"

      "Those dwarves are dead," said Elrohir, "And if we do not want to soon follow in their wake, we must make use of the goods that we find."

      "What other treasures lie there?" Frodo asked, cutting into an argument he was sure would follow.

      "More _mithril_ than I've ever seen in any one place, or probably even in all the places I've ever seen in my life," replied Aragorn, "Jewels, gold and silver in all shapes and sizes.  So much treasure, and yet not the one we seek."

      "Does anyone think this search has been easy so far?" Faramir asked, stretching his arms towards the warmth of the fire.

      "Hardly!" exclaimed Merry.

      "I meant that here, in the deeps of Moria," clarified Faramir, "We entered this chamber with no resistance.  This pool is so clear you could see any threats that may approach, and it seems empty… what did anyone who had ever deigned from looting this place fear?"

      "Let's hope we do not find out," Elladan said, as he shed his coats and outer tunic near the edge of the water.  Beside him, Triste and Legolas were doing the same.

      One by one, the three of them dived into the water, and headed for the second submerged floor of treasure chambers.  

* * *

      Triste was a strong man, and a respected soldier.  But he did not have the resilience of the elves he had dived with, and had to come up for air more quickly.

      About an hour into their search, his head broke the surface of the pool for the nth time, and after taking a couple of breaths, he braced his body for a dive, and plunged head-first back into the water.  Looking straight down, he could not help but marvel at its clarity and depth, and the deeper it went, the less he could see through it, for it went so deep the light could no longer reach below.  The deepest parts were a black abyss, and he almost choked on water when he caught his breath in surprise at the sight of strange, glowing flickering figures in the dark parts.  

      His eyes widened and he watched in shock, as the glowing figure seemed to come closer and closer, become larger and larger the closer it came…

      Paddling frantically back up to the surface, he breathlessly exclaimed, "There's something in the water! There's something in the water!" 

* * *

      The company who had been resting by the fire anxiously got to their feet, some readying their weapons as others motioned for Triste to come ashore, waving him back to the level ground, as they yelled for Legolas and Elladan to get out of the water.

* * *

      Elladan's eyes danced through the wonders that these treasuries held.  Such riches as were hidden here beneath the water with invaluable and rare, and undoubtedly beautiful.  The _mithri_ swords Elrohir had raised up to the surface were the least of these treasures! Other pieces were uselessly opulent, others entrancing and whimsical, and there were more decorative and lethal weapons.

      From chamber to chamber he went, regretting each time he had to raise his head to take a breath, always eager to plunge back into the wonder in the water.  It was not so much the value or beauty of such things; he was an elf and knew beauty and value of his own kin, but it was the history of these treasures, their ghostly, legendary presence come alive, like a pirate or ghost story.  

      Upon his nth chamber, his eyes rest on a box that seemed to call upon him.  It was gold and jeweled, and tucked into a corner near treasures that it outshone.

      _Pandora_…

      Grinning, he pushed his legs and swam towards it, reaching his arms out for the object of their quest eagerly.

* * *

      "Elladan!" Aragorn screamed, "Legolas! Get out of the water!"

      But it was glaringly obvious that the elves beneath the pool could not hear them.  As Triste was helped out of the pool by Jullian and Faramir, Aragorn jumped into the water and dived to look for his friends.

      Elrohir held his ground at the edge of the pool and readied his bow to cover Aragorn, studying the water carefully, looking down.  There indeed were flickering, glowing figures that were swiftly rising from the darkness below.  But suddenly, just when Elrohir thought they would move up to the lighted parts of the water and be completely seen, they had all but vanished.

      "It's gone," Elrohir said breathlessly, disbelieving his eyes, "There was a glowing flickering that was rising from the water, like some strange beast.  Suddenly, as it moved up to the light, it vanished!"

      There was a momentary hush, as the company held their breaths to see what dire fate these mines would next offer them.  The silence was broken by Elladan, raising his head from the surface of the water, Pandora's box clutched in his hand.

      "Look what I found!" he exclaimed happily.

      "Get out of the water!" Elrohir yelled to his brother.

      Elladan looked momentarily stunned, then his face suddenly looked horrified when an unseen force pulled him underwater.

      "Elladan!" Elrohir yelled, his eyes looking at the water wildly for whatever had grabbed his brother, "I see nothing!"

      Aragorn's and Legolas's heads broke the surface of the water.

      "It took Elladan!" Sam yelled.

      Faramir tossed Legolas and Aragorn the light but lethally sharp _mithril_ blades, which the two warriors caught smoothly, just before they dived into the water.

      Elrohir and Jullian made ready to do the same, until Triste told them, "Wait and see what it is first before foolishly putting yourselves in peril as well!"

      "I can't just stand here and watch!" snapped Elrohir.

      "Shut your light, Gandalf!" Frodo said softly.  The wizard looked at him as if he were mad.  "We saw the creature coming towards us when it was dark.  Maybe we could not see it in the light."

      "Yes, Gandalf!" agreed Merry, "I've heard legends of water beasts that live so deep in the sea they could not be reached by the sun, and their bodies glow by themselves!"

      It was worth a try; Gandalf's staff gradually dimmed, and also gradually, they found themselves looking at a large, glowing beast with many large tentacles.  Several such tentacles were grasping a writhing Elladan under the water.

      "No!" exclaimed Elrohir, pointing his bow downward and aiming at what looked to be the beast's head.  He fired three arrows in succession.  The beast screeched, its grips tightened and its other tentacles thrashed about the water, creating a wild splashing.  Elrohir watched in horror as his brother's figure slackened, and stopped resisting.

      "Nooooo!"

* * *

      Aragorn and Legolas were underwater when the light from Gandalf's staff dimmed, and they saw at last what they were up against.

      Dodging the beast's tentacles under the water, the pair swam towards its head, wielding their swords.  It was at this time that they saw Elladan, limp in the embrace of a tentacle.  From his hand slipped a golden box that steadily made its descent down into the water's deep eternity.

      Their eyes meeting as they came upon a silent understanding; _That can only be one thing…_

      Aragorn raised his sword to free Elladan, as Legolas dived in pursuit of the falling box, following its fading glint into the darkness.

* * *

      The beast's wild thrashings only worsened when it lost its prey.  Fighting the splashing and dodging the tentacles that moved about wildly in the water, Aragorn dragged Elladan's limp body with him as he swam to where his companions were.  Elrohir was vindictively releasing arrow after arrow, and the hobbits were throwing stones at the beast, their aim often true.

      By now, the wild thrashings of the beast were shaking the chambers, and large and small chunks of the roof was starting to fall.

      Triste and Faramir pulled Aragorn and Elladan from the water.  The elf was limp, and his eyes were closed.  Elrohir fell to his knees beside his ashen brother.

      ~Elladan,~ Aragorn called to him, ~Open your eyes.  Do not do this to us, or to your brother,~ to his companions, he said reassuringly, "He just needs air.  He may have taken in some water."

      Fisting his left hand and securing it with his right, he braced them against Elladan's chest, and pushed them forward, willing to expel the water from the elf's lungs.  He did this for a few moments, until the elf's body shuddered, and he coughed out water.  Aragorn turned him to his side, and stood up as he let Elrohir take care of him from there.

      "Legolas is still in the water," he said, watching the beast as it struggled with its life and its pain, its tentacles making storming waves in the water, and stretching out to the walls, breaking them and shaking the treasuries to its core.

      "The… box…" Elladan coughed.

      "You found it?" Gandalf exclaimed.

      "It fell," Aragorn said, studying the water and thinking about how best to return to it, "Legolas went after it.  I wish this beast would just lie still!"

      Grabbing his sword, he dived into the water to his soldiers' great dismay.

      "Sire!" exclaimed Jullian.

      Elrohir handed him the quiver Legolas had left when he began his dive, "You can best help him this way.  That is, you can you shoot, couldn't you?"

      "Of course," said Jullian.  
      "Then get to it," the elf told him, bearing his own bow.  

* * *

      Legolas's lungs were ready to burst, as he swam deeper and deeper into the water, that became colder and colder and darker and darker.  The glinting of the gold box was fading, just like his strength, and his hope.

      His arms stretched eagerly for it, and he always missed it by a sacred breath.  

      It was getting dark, now.  Too dark.  He could barely see the box as it fell below him.

      _If you are even still there at all_, he thought despairingly, fearing perhaps his eyes had already failed him, he was seeing things, the box had long since dropped, it's a ghost, _you're as good as a ghost yourself_.

      _I'm going to die_, he thought miserably and hatefully, _in this cursed place of the dwarves, in the darkest spaces of an already dreadful cave, trying to grasp a box with all of its problems and promises, none of which are my own_.

      _Let go, now…_

_      Leave it._

_      It's too dark.  _

_      It's too cold.  _

_      It's not your problem._

_      Let it fall into darkness._

_      Let yourself fall—_

No.

      The moment his mind said it, strength seemed to fill him.

      _No_!

      He would not break his promise to Estel, or violate his duty to this Earth and all his friends here.  He would not lose himself—at least, not now, not here, when choices only he could make decided the fate of the world.

      _Just let me take this to Estel_, he prayed and swore fervently, _Just let me yield this to them.  And then you, black plague, can have your way with me…_  

      Pushing himself forward, his fingers brushed the box once, twice, then gripped them, gripped them violently and longingly.  He poured the last of his hopes into his reach, and securing the box in his arms, he propelled himself up to the surface.

* * *

      As it died, the beast's glowing body paled and dimmed, and plunged the caves into darkness once again.  When Gandalf lit the cavernous room with his staff, it was a royal mess, and would be even more of one; the beast may have stilled at last, but Moria did not.  It was disturbed, and shaken by the beast's wild last struggles that its rocks fell from its cavernous roofs, and its ground cracked.

      "We have to leave," Sam said urgently.

      Aragorn was wading in the water, tossing his head from side to side.  "Legolas! Legolas!"

      The elf emerged some meters away from him, breaking to the surface with gasps and coughs.  Aragorn swam towards him, and pulled him towards the company.

      Both of them were dragged up to the chamber, breathless and exhausted.  The ground shook beneath them, prodding them to hurry.

      "Sam is correct," Gandalf said, "Gather your feet, my friends.  Our journey is near its end."

      The idea that their stay in Moria would end as soon as they walk out of there was more than encouraging enough.

      Elladan supported by his brother, and Legolas and Aragorn rising, the group hurriedly ran for the stairs, and ran up along its seemingly infinite length, tired and breathless, and eager to just _leave_.

TO BE CONCLUDED IN THE LAST PART OF "THE PLAGUE,"

PART 8, "Redemption"

PREVIEW OF PART 8:

      Now armed with Pandora's Box, the hunt for the plague begins, and Aragorn and his company try to beat the hour before the orcs attack the virtually defenseless Rohan.    


	8. Redemption

Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague 

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

Part 8, "Redemption"

___

Borders of Hollin

___

      The company did not stop for anything.  Silently, they had stalked through Moria in profound eagerness to depart it.  It is only after hours and endless hours later that they finally stepped out of the west gate, met by the light of the late afternoon sun of the day after they had gone inside.

      Looking at each other in wonder, Sam turned to Elrohir and exclaimed, "You were right! None who had gone down there lived to tell the tale.  Look at us, we all look like ghouls!"

      The dust from the collapse of the treasuries had gathered in their hair, clothes and faces, making them all look like walking ash-gray sculptures.  Their eyes were tired and bloodshot.

      The company each found a place to sink down upon and sit.  They were weary, and undoubtedly needed rest and recovery.  For instance, the persistent bruises of Elladan were not completely hidden by his clothes and the dust; glaring streaks of red, purple and blue wound about his neck, where the pool's beast had twined its muscular tentacles.  From the stiff, guarded way he moved, there was little doubt that his torso, which had also been ensnared, was just as injured.

      Legolas too, had taken a turn for the worst, and was sitting quietly, with eyes looking longingly and distantly away at something only he could see.  His hands were clutching Pandora's box so tightly that they shook, and he held the precious treasure close to his body, as if his life depended on it, and maybe for now, it did.  Like Elladan and Triste, who were the last searchers in the water, Legolas had shed his coats and outer tunic for the dive, and these were left when the company hurriedly escaped the collapse.  Clad in just his pants and a thin shirt, there was little surprise that even an elf like him could be cold, even in late afternoon.  But Aragorn, who had been looking at his old friend and knowing what this general decline meant, could not dismiss it so easily.

      The King fell to one knee before the elf, who had looked up at him after a distracted moment.  The light in his eyes were dimming, and Aragorn knew then, that even the strongest of wills could be claimed by this plague, the bravest of the brave, even the stoutest of hearts.

      Legolas raised the box in offering to Aragorn.  "As promised," he said softly.

      "I did not make you swear to me all for the success of this," Aragorn told him, matching his lowered voice, "I wanted you to swear to me so you would not lose yourself."

      "Maybe it was never my promise to make," Legolas said flatly, "I am so sorry, Estel.  I lived by it as much as I was able."

      Aragorn's heart sank, hearing his friend speak in these ridiculously broken past tenses, "You still live," he pointed out, taking the box from Legolas, who had to wrest his own stiff fingers from it one by one.  With it, he had released the last of his iron resolve.  He felt that he has done his duty by this quest, and had to turn to his own battles.

      "I'm sorry too," Aragorn said after a moment.  He laid the box reverently upon the ground, and removed his coat, draping it about his friend's shoulders, "It was unfair of me to have asked such a promise from you.  And yet you had done well by it.  You have redeemed your word to me."

      Legolas met his eyes squarely and nodded.  "Thank you," he whispered.

      "Now I have my own word to give to you," Aragorn said, "I will capture this plague and you will have your hope back.  All of Rohan and Pippin will as well.  And those demented orcs will be cast back into the shadows from which they came.  We will rise from this."

      "When did you not?" Legolas said, finding a smile left in him, which Aragorn gratefully returned.  

* * *

      Elladan let himself be bandaged by Aragorn, enduring the relatively painful treatment with just a grit of his teeth.  Aragorn had tended to him after redressing Legolas's forearm wound, which the elf had taken note of.

      "I did not know Legolas was injured as well," Elladan said through his teeth, "It is an old one.  You were re-dressing."

      "He was bitten," Aragorn admitted, "He is losing his heart, if he has not lost it already."

      "I thought he seemed distracted," Elladan said wistfully, "What light there is from Mirkwood dims in his eyes."

      "He has fought it long and valiantly," said Aragorn, "But I know this quest ends for him, now.  And I need your help."

      "Anything," Elladan offered.

      "Take him to Rivendell," said Aragorn, "We cannot bring him with us for the rest of this arduous journey."

      "Of course," Elladan said, though his eyes narrowed at the King, "I think this is very clever of you, though."

      Aragorn's brows rose in 'innocent' inquiry.

      "My bearing Legolas away," said Elladan, "also bears me and my own injuries away from the frontlines.  And yet you know I cannot deny you this duty.  Hm," he reiterated, "Truly very clever of you."

      Aragorn grinned shamelessly at him.  "Why thank you."

* * *

      "Be safe, my friend," Gimli said to Legolas gruffly, patting the elf's leg.  Legolas was already upon a horse and by now had gone beyond words, barely even looking at the dwarf in acknowledgement.  He and Elladan shared the latter's horse, with Legolas sitting in front, encased by Aragorn's coat and Elladan's sure arms.

      "I would go with you," said Gimli, "but I do not think it is my axe that you need right now."

      "I'll take care of him, Master dwarf," Elladan assured him, before glancing down at his brother, ~Try to stay out of trouble.~

      ~Tell that to yourself,~ Elrohir said wryly.  

      Elladan gave a nod to Aragorn, before pulling on his horse's reins, willing him to run.  The company watched them leave as the sun began to set, and did not speak until the sound of the clacking hooves have faded in the distance.

      "They shouldn't run into any trouble," said Gandalf, "If the orcs have indeed gathered to attack Gondor and Rohan, they would not even cross paths."

      "The blasted elf didn't tell me he was bitten," grumbled Gimli, "such a reckless race."

      Elrohir raised an eyebrow at him, but bit his tongue, the dwarf's worry lacing the tone of dismay not lost on him.  He turned to Aragorn instead.  

      "And what of the rest of us?" he asked.

      "Rohan fell to the plague first and is more weak now," said Aragorn, "the orcs would hit it first.  But the plague will go to Gondor, where uninfected men live," he winced, "if it has not already gone there.

      "My soldiers, and Faramir, will head to Rohan and lend her their arms.  Knowing Eowyn, upon the information that orcs are gathering, she would move her people to Helm's Deep," continued Aragorn, "But they are probably still in the Golden Hall because most of her people are ill and they do not have the manpower to move them.  Our soldiers will be more needed there than in Gondor, where a sizeable contingent remains to defend it.  The rest of us will head towards Gondor and try to capture the plague.  We leave as soon as we are ready."

      As the troupe gathered their meager belongings, Aragorn turned to Gandalf with a lowered voice, "We have the box.  But how does one get this plague inside? Do we jump it? Do we run after it? Or have you any spells?"

      "None in my immediate recollection," replied Gandalf, "but I shall consider this along the length of our journey.  The gods managed to place the plagues inside the box, and I cannot imagine them running around like fools trying to catch them.  There must be a spell.  And I will most certainly think about it.  If I could not… then we run after the slithering beasts like idiots.  We've gone this far, I certainly do not mind the indignity."

      Aragorn smiled wryly at him, "Good plan."

___

Road to Gondor

___

      Night had fallen, but the group traveled tirelessly at this point, as if they felt the end was near and had given their mightiest efforts to this final stretch.  Gimli had Arod to himself, and was doing rather well for a dwarf.  Even the hobbits had grown accustomed to travel by horse, though the steed that Sam and Merry shared was slightly smaller and much more tame than the other horses.  As they always did, Aragorn, Elrohir and Gandalf (who was saddled with Frodo) were comfortable upon their ride, as their horses sliced through the ground with smooth precision.  

      They moved quickly and seldom stopped, and night had turned into day, and day once again into night, making Gimli remember the last time he had traveled so ceaselessly.  He, Aragorn and the blasted elf had been in pursuit of orcs who had taken their hobbit friends.  They _ran_ cross-country.  They _ran_ then, and it suddenly gave him comfort that he was riding this time.

      _Never in my life_, thought Gimli, _did I ever think a dwarf would be so grateful to be upon a horse_.

      Still they rode, and night turned to day once again, and day into night.  It was at this time, that they had at last reached Gondor.

      It was silent as a grave, and this was creating a chill in her King's heart, making him ride faster, his companions struggling to keep pace as he rode into the capital.

      The towns they passed were quiet, disturbingly empty.  This lent despair to Gimli's heart; were they too late? Had Gondor fallen into hopelessness, as Rohan had? 

      They slowed their horses as they moved through the heart of the town.  There was _no one_ here.

      "The elf and I came upon Rohan in a similar state," Gimli said to Aragorn quietly, "Aragorn…"

      "No," Aragorn said stonily, "This cannot be.  No."

      Prompting his horse to move faster, he rode so quickly and desperately that his companions trailed behind him, as he headed towards his palace.  

      He paused at its gates, eyes raking across its face.  There were torches lit everywhere, and the palace seemed heavily barricaded though he could not sight a single soldier on the perimeter, as there usually was.

      "Open the gate!" he commanded from outside, "Open the gate!"

      There was a breathless, quiet moment, as he waited for a response.  _Any_ response.

      "Estel!" exclaimed Elrohir suddenly, releasing an arrow at something he had sighted in the dark, flying towards Aragorn.

      "It's that infernal beast!" Gandalf exclaimed.

      "Stay close," Aragorn told them, drawing his sword.  Pandora's box he hid within his tunic, its weight an assurance of its presence.  It soon occurred to him that being the only folk around, the plague would want to hit them.  Specifically, _him_, a man, for whom this curse was meant.

      Elrohir's arrows met their mark, and in the glow of the multitude of torches from the palace, they saw exactly what it was that preyed upon the hope of men.

      The plague indeed look like a lizard, though with its wings and ominous black, and its glowing eyes and sharp fangs, it looked more like a small dragon.

      It screeched when Elrohir's arrows hit it, and its flesh parted where it was injured.  The arrows went through it, then the skin joined together again, as if he were made of smoke, or thick water.

      The arrows injured it little, and in moments it returned to full strength, but at least they were enough of a distraction.  The plague flew over their heads, and soared to poise itself for another attack.

      Suddenly, it screeched again and was downed by arrows coming from the palace walls.  Aragorn looked up, and found his soldiers there.  His heart was warmed by the sight of them.

      The gate opened, laboriously because it was heavily weighed by the extra barricades.  The company hurried inside, and soldiers quickly shut the gate behind them.

      Aragorn found his palace overrun by his people; soldiers and townsfolk had set up a refuge here, and it was crowded but the people seemed well and unhurt.

      "Sire," a footman greeted him, taking the reins of his horse as he hopped from it.

      "Where is the Queen?" Aragorn demanded.

      "Here."

      He whipped at the sound of her voice, and Arwen threw herself upon him, holding him tightly.

      "Welcome back," she said, "I should not have feared for you."

      "Nor I for you," he said, with a small smile as he looked around, "I first thought that Gondor had fallen."

      "We knew the plague was upon us when some families living in the outskirts fell," she said, "We evacuated everyone here, thinking that though it leaves our borders open, our people are more safe in one fortified place.  The beast has been stalking the palace since, trying to find a way inside, knowing that all of its preys lie here."

      "Don't I get a hug from my sister?" Elrohir said from behind Aragorn.

      Arwen pulled away from her husband and favored him with a smile, ~Where there is trouble…~

      ~There I am,~ sighed Elrohir, ~Yes, yes, I know.  Elladan is safe with _ada_ in Rivendell, if you were wondering.  Legolas was bitten, and he took him.~

      "We have the box!" Merry said excitedly, "We can capture this beast, and free Legolas and Pippin and Rohan and everyone from their despair! Just in time for us all to defend ourselves from the coming orcs! What a surprise they would get thinking they would come upon sleeping targets.  Ha!"

      Aragorn drew the golden, jeweled box from his tunic.  "I've not opened it," he confessed, "There couldn't be another plague inside this one, could there?"

      "Certainly not!" said Gandalf, though he did not volunteer to open it either.  It seems Pippin's mistake had made them all cautious.

      Aragorn lifted the lid slightly and peered inside.  Then he opened the box completely.  There was nothing there, and the group unknowingly released a collective sigh of relief.

      "We do indeed have a box," smiled Frodo.

      "And I think I have a spell," Gandalf said in surprise, looking at the lid of the box closely, noticing shallow golden engravings that he had not seen in their rush from Moria, "what do these look like to you?"

      Arwen frowned.  "They seem like designs of flowers, a forest, people… interspersed with the jewels.  Why? Surely it is just art?"

      "It's an old language," said Gandalf, "without letters or words, represented instead by pictures and codes.  We have a spell!"

* * *

      A box.  A spell.  And willing bait.

      The plague wanted only humans, then it would most certainly get one out in the open, waiting for its dreadful bite.

      Sam, Frodo, Merry, Gimli, Arwen and Elrohir readied their weapons; they could risk going outside because they were only secondary targets.  Gandalf held the golden box and twirled the spell around in his head.  And Aragorn-the-willing-bait clutched at his sword.

      All eight of them climbed up towards the roof of the palace cautiously, trailed by some of Aragorn's soldiers along the stairwell.

      "What I do not understand is," asked Sam, "Why would the old gods place a kind-of undoing upon their own spell?"

      "With all my heart do I respect the gods," disclaimed Gandalf before replying, "but their relations with each other are oft-marred by one-upmanship and jealousies and loves and passions.  Such dramas you hear... a god wants one way, someone else wants another, they all end up creating rings around each other."

      "Good thing," commented Merry.

      Aragorn turned to his soldiers.  "Once we step out of the roof, shut the door behind us.  You do not want this beast going inside the palace."

      They stopped at the landing before a door.  Elrohir stepped out first, and the rest followed quickly.  Behind them, they heard the assuring shutting of the door, as Aragorn's men did, as always, what their King had told them to.

      "Come out, plague," murmured Merry, readying his sword.  Beside him, Frodo and Sam did the same.  Gimli was also in a fighting stance with his axe, and Elrohir and Arwen with bows and arrows.

      They were met by wind and silence for a few anxious breaths.  Suddenly, almost soundlessly, the lithe black figure descended from the skies, moving towards Aragorn.

      ~Head down!~ Arwen told her husband sharply, and he trusted her so greatly that he did as shje asked without question.  The arrow she had released zipped a hair away from his head and met its mark.

      The lizard screeched, and re-formed itself as it had before, but did not get far before Elrohir unleashed an arrow of his own.

      "Gandalf, hurry!" Merry prodded.

      "Don't rush me," murmured the wizard, setting his eyes upon the lizard, who by now had crashed to the floor, pounded by a volley of arrows that assaulted its body as soon as it regenerated itself.

      "The arrows would run out soon," Sam pointed out.

      "That's what _we're_ here for," grumbled Gimli.  The company stood in a circle around the lizard, determined not to let it escape.

      Gandalf opened the box and stretched his arms out towards the writhing beast, murmuring words from an ancient language, that sounded so hollowed that they brought a cackle to the air, and shivers upon the spines of those who heard it.

      Lightning streaked angrily across the skies, and a wild wind was picking up, pounding at their clothes and their faces, making the palace torches dance.

      Gradually, Gandalf's voice became louder and louder, as the beast screeched and thrashed, and the night seemed to head towards a dreadful storm.

       "Return," Gandalf Commanded, lending his own brand of magic to the power of the old spell, "Return to your prison!"

      The beast screeched, a scream of agony so loud it hurt those who heard it, and it surely echoed clear across the lands.  As it opened its mouth in its profound anguish, strange glowing shafts of light tore through the body of the plague, creating a wild show of golden streaks soaring through the dim night sky.

      The light started to stream from its eyes, from the tips of its fingers, from its skin… the light was tearing the beast apart, until it was all light and strange black ash, that danced with the wind towards the box.  The very breath that all of this black ash entered the box, Gandalf shut it securely.

      Awed, the company looked up at the wildly beautiful show of streaking lights that had lit the sky.

      "And what about those?" Frodo asked.

      "I trust," replied Gandalf, "they would know where to return."

      "Open the gates," Arwen said delightedly, "Let the people see.  Such a sight they would probably never again lay eyes on."

___

Rivendell

___

      Elladan sat on a seat next to Legolas's bed, troubled by the sight of his old friend ailing.  Legolas laid upon his side, eyes clouded and dimly staring at… at _nothing_.

      The moon lent a glowing white light to the room from the window, and shadows of leaves and trees danced with the wind, the strange dark shapes playing about his expressionless, _empty_ face.

      _What a cruel curse this is_, Elladan thought bitterly, _it does not kill you, and yet it keeps you from living.  It lends no finality, only an unending despair_.

      Suddenly, the wind picked up, and Elladan looked towards the window, feeling that it was a wind that was unfamiliar to him.  

      _Perhaps a storm is coming_, he thought miserably, _to add to our profoundly ill-luck_.

      Turning away from the window and reaching to pull Legolas's blankets higher over his shoulders to protect him from the cold, he hardly noticed the streaks of glimmering light that suddenly colored the night sky, shooting up from a distance.

      A few such streaks of light diverged from the others and swirled with the wild wind towards Rivendell.  Then these streaks divided again, and a solitary strand of light languidly flowed into the room of Legolas, Elladan practically jumping when he noticed it at last.

      The light played about Legolas's still form as Elladan watched in shock, just before it seemed to seep into his skin, lending it a yellow glow before it vanished altogether.

      Elladan watched Legolas's face anxiously.  The dull eyes closed slowly, his chest rose and fell in a sigh, before he opened his eyes and smiled.

      ~They did it,~ Legolas whispered, his eyes dancing.  

      Elladan banished all shock from his face, feigning indifference.  ~I don't know why you are even still surprised.~

      Legolas sat up, studied Elladan.  ~You look terrible.~  
      ~You really should be a bit more pleasant,~ Elladan said flatly, though his eyes too held a deep gladness, ~You my friend, look much better than you had in days, however.~

      ~And I feel better,~ said Legolas, ~Would you want to follow our friends through to Rohan and Gondor?~

      ~The work would be done by the time we get there,~ said Elladan, ~But of course I want to see how everyone fares, and I am certain they would want to see you.~

      ~When do we leave?~ Legolas asked.

      ~Give it a few days,~ replied Elladan, ~It makes no difference now when we arrive, because the fight would surely be over anyway.  And besides… my _ada_ sent for yours when he set eyes upon you, he felt that he should let King Thranduil know.  He would be mightily displeased with us if he had come all the way from Mirkwood only to find you gone.  And that, in turn, would mightily displease my _ada_.~

      ~They are often displeased,~ smiled Legolas, ~Then again, we are often in trouble.~

___

Rohan

___

      Though they no longer had the resources that they did when the Dark Lord reigned, a sizeable mass of uruk-hai with their weapons and their brutality would still make a force to be reckoned with.

      Like an efficient machine, they marched towards Rohan, stopping at the borders as they readied themselves for battle.

      They had traveled throughout the night, and had reached Rohan in good time, hours yet before the dawn, though the uruks did not really fear the light and the time mattered little to them, only that they wanted to attack as soon as possible.

      Some of them were snickering in anticipation for the bloodshed to come, and the rewards it promised; revenge, and property.  It was their time to lord over these lands.

      "Move out!" yelled their commander, and they took but a few steps forward before the presence of the Rohirrim was at last made known to them.

      Masters of horses indeed these warriors were, and had emerged from all sides, surrounding them completely, spears and swords at the ready.

      "This is a course," King Eomer told them flatly, mighty upon his steed, "You may want to rethink."

      The battle was over in a little after an hour, the Rohirrim emerging as victors, as they always had.

___

Gondor

___

      Things had already gone back to the way they always were, just days after this latest near-brush of men with complete devastation.  The townspeople had returned to their homes, tongues wagging in excitement over the latest events, children playing in the streets, pretending to be members of the company that had captured the plague.

      The real plague sat upon a table within the palace, the hobbits, Gimli, Elrohir, Aragorn, Arwen and Gandalf sitting around it, contemplating it.  Aside from the loose latch that kept it closed, it has also been tied with a rope from Sam, and reinforced with thick strands of leather and even bows from Arwen.  They could not risk this box opening again.

      "We can bury it, I suppose," said Frodo, "but it eventually will be found, don't you think?"

      "After Pippin," sighed Gandalf, "such an option would not sit very well with me."

      "We can bind it and tie some stones to weigh it down and toss it into the sea," suggested Sam.

      "The ropes would weather with time," said Aragorn, "and it may still be found and opened."

      "We cast it in iron," said Gimli, "the dwarves would know how best to do it.  It will be sturdy.  It will last through time.  Then outside, we engrave a warning in all the tongues and languages of men that it should not be opened."

      "I think the idea of the dwarf has some merit," Elrohir said coolly, making the dwarf look at him with suspicion, "Give me some credit, Master Gimli.  If I think an idea is good I would praise it.  Even if it came from a dwarf."

      "I think warnings would only pique the curiosity, don't you think?" asked Merry, "Whatever happened must not be forgotten, so people in the future would know not to open the treasure."

      "A wise suggestion," approved Gandalf.

      "Well then," said Aragorn, thinking of a consolidation of all the ideas, "Perhaps we should cast it in iron and, instead of warnings on its outside, place the story of what had happened upon it, in all the main tongues.  Lend it some art, create a monument.  The question is, where should it lie?"

      "In Rohan," said Gimli reverently, "the monument should lie in Rohan, where its brutality would never be forgotten in all the ages."

___

Rohan

___

      A couple of weeks later, all of the company would reunite in Rohan, and even Pippin had come from the Shire, profoundly irked that in the legends, he would only be known as the fool who had opened the box.

      "Better not to be known at all, I say!" he had said, not ceasing to talk since he had first laid his eyes upon his friends, "I bet if I had only come along, things would have been much better and quicker.  If only someone else had opened that blasted box!"

      "We missed you, Pippin," Merry told him, and this touched and embarrassed him enough to make him blush and quiet down, at least for the moment.

      Elladan and Legolas, as well as Aragorn's six soldiers who were bitten in Hollin had arrived also, about the same time as Pippin.

      "I've come to return your soldiers," Legolas said to Aragorn, smiling as he offered a neatly folded cloth to him, "and your coat."

      "I am glad to see you in possession of yourself," Aragorn said, as the two men embraced each other, "Welcome back."

      "And you, elf!" seethed Gimli from behind Aragorn, pushing the King aside, "Should have told me something!"       

      "Hello, Gimli," Legolas grinned, "I shall keep this in mind next time."

      "I would rather that there not be a next time like that," Gimli said, also embracing his friend, "blasted elf."

      More reunions abound, including that of the brothers Elladan and Elrohir, who restrained their affection for each other with humor and wryness, though their eyes were warm and kind.

      The day after the arrivals, at dawn, the company, and the survivors of Rohan soon rounded about the monument that the dwarves had made; it was shrouded in gray cloth and kept an intriguing secret design, one that Gimli had thought of.

      The dwarf shifted nervously.  The swiftness and quality by which the dwarves worked was nothing he ever had to fear for, but he wanted the design to capture the triumphant and glorious feeling of this difficult victory.

      "In honor of the fallen of Rohan," said one of the dwarf craftsmen, "and the brave company who had kept others from the fall.  Behold!"

      He pulled back the cloth, and a sigh of appreciation was heard throughout the gathered group.

      Pandora's box was indeed reinforced by iron and stone, though it was unseen and buried a meter below the ground.  Above it, however, a shiny onyx square foundation was built, upon which figures of polished silver and stone melded together in beautiful, thin, spun strands that soared through the air, looking like the shafts of the light of hope that had been released when the plague had been captured nights ago.  The polished surface of the silver caught the sunlight and cast it around in sparks, giving the sculpture life and texture.  It would do the same with the moonlight, and would give the sculpture the illusion that it was never the same; as the angles of the sun changed, the reflections would be thrown a different way, showing new shadows and angles.

      The people applauded, and some of those who had lost loved ones even wept in appreciation for the piece.

      "You've outdone yourselves," Legolas murmured to Gimli, who grunted and shifted and said nothing, embarrassed and pleased.

      "Let this be a reminder," Eomer said over the din of the crowd, who hushed to listen to their King, "Not of our fall, but of our rise in the face of hardship," he looked at Aragorn and the company who had aided him, "the kindness, and bravery of ourselves and our friends, and an ardent, shimmering hope, that must never be torn from us again."

      The people cheered as the sun rose higher into the sky, and shifted into animated talk, speaking with friends, admiring the sculpture, eating sweets that was served in celebration, just living life as it was always meant to be lived.  With great enthusiasm.  With friends.  With a strength that eagerly faced the coming of the day.

THE END

SEPTEMBER 27, 2003

SOME IMPORTANT NOTES:

ON MIDDLE-EARTH GEOGRAPHY.  I tried to use Tolkien's map in the travels of the group, and base the layout of Hollin and Moria upon the descriptions from "The Fellowship of the Ring," though the treasuries I made up on my own :)  I hope I managed to get my ideas that across.  I also made references to the events in Moria from "The Fellowship…," like the story of the submerged treasuries, the destruction of the bridge, and Gandalf's fall.  If I got anything wrong from canon, I'm really sorry, I wouldn't really call myself an expert  at this, but I tried to be as accurate as I could within my limited knowledge. ON ELLADAN AND ELROHIR.  This is the first time I've ever wrote of them.  I'm not really much familiar with the twins, but I based their characterizations with a very general elf-aloofness but also the passions and kindness of Aragorn, who had grown with them, and some humor.  I hope this is not too OOC. ON MY KIND REVIEWERS.  I think this fic would take even longer to write than it already has if not for you guys.  I want to say a super duper thank you for your kindness, and most importantly, your time.  I know I can get a little tedious :) I could not express just how much you encourage me to be productive.  A big, massive, unbelievable thank you! ON CHARACTERIZATION OF CANON CHARACTERS.  I'm a gigantic fan of Pippin, and while I truly did want him in the action, I could not resist giving him a little trouble that is typical of the sort that he always seems to find.  I could not imagined making anyone else the catalyst of this adventure.  Aragorn, whom I always depict as Estel; hope.  As I said before, he is like a rock, always steady, always dependable, but not square.  He has great passions and great charm as well, so I hope I managed to convey that.  Legolas, who is also a favorite of mine, I think has this great work ethic.  I matched the admirable movie-version of him with the more care-free book-version to come up with the proud but passionate, grounded and charming character you find here and in all my other stories about him.  I wanted him to be strong but also 'human,' and I hope that too came across.  I fear that I may have brought in too many characters to delve justly into all of their nuances, but I hope I was not too unfair in their representation. ON THE PLOT.  Inspired by the greek myth of Pandora's Box, which has always fascinated me.  Gandalf's remark about the greek gods and their passions is actually my own, and I hope no one finds it unfair :) I also hope the story is not too long and confusing, and there was a reasonable flow.  I also did not bother too much with the timing and time-setting of the story, for I am unsure how long journeys cross-country last, and I did not bother much to intersperse the storyline with what happened in the future according to the appendices in the book.  I wanted to tell the story, and I limited it to that and I hope I did not create too much confusion! :) Once again, thanks to everyone.  I'm sorry for any inconsistencies and thanks for your time.  C&c's are perpetually welcome :) 


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